. 


"  'Give  me  a  day  of  your  life.    One  day !'  " — Page  10 


THE 

WOMAN'S  LAW 

BY 

MARAVENE  THOMPSON 

WITH  EIGHT  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

W.  D.  GOLDBECK 


NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES   COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1913,  1914,  by 
THE  PHILLIPS  PUBLISHING  Co. 


Copyright,  1914,  by 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of  translation  into  foreign 
languages,  including  the  Scandinavian 


March,  1914 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


: Give  me  a  day  of  your  life.     One  day!'"     .     Frontispiece 


FACING 
PAGE 


"  Would  even  the  most  astute  officer  of  the  law  look 
further  with  this  before  him  in  George  Orcutt's 

home?" 18 

"'Don't  stare  at  me  so!'" 66 

"'What  I  want  is  right  here'" 104 

"'Please  go! — please — please!' she  whispered"      .      .  148 

" '  Gail ! '  he  cried  hoarsely.     '  She  is  not  my ' "  .  160 

"'You  do  not  forgive — '  she  mumbled.    'I — I  did  not 

— expect — Only — '" 196 


2133530 


THE  WOMAN'S  LAW 


TTUSBAND  and  wife  sat  in  a  long  silence  after 
A  A  his  recital.  The  man's  face  was  ghastly 
with  fright.  By  degrees  the  woman's  stunned  gaze 
changed  to  one  of  questioning. 

"Why  did  you— kill  him?" 

"Why?"  repeated  George  Orcutt. 

"Was  it — in  self-defense?"  There  was  an  im- 
ploring cadence  in  quaver. 

"No,"  he  groaned.  "We  were  both  in  ugly  tem- 
per— I  was  playing  with  the  knife — I  didn't  intend 
— Then — somehow  it  was  done — and — he  was — at 
my  feet,  the  knife  in — his — heart.  It  is  there  now 
• — my  knife  with  my  name  on  the  handle." 

Her  shivering  hands  came  to  her  eyes  as  though 
to  shut  out  the  thing  he  told  her  was  "there." 

"And  Earle  and  Adams  knew  we  went  to  the 
studio  together,"  continued  the  man  despairingly. 
"Charlie  Knox  passed  me  as  I  was  coming  out  of 
Emmet's  door — I  was  so  undone  that  I  almost 
blurted  it  out  to  him — I  used  my  latch-key  for  fear 


2  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

I  should  tell  it  to  the  footman — It  was  too — awful 
— to  keep  alone " 

The  wife  gazed  into  his  terrified  eyes,  and  into 
the  glaze  of  her  own  crept  a  strange  light.  She 
leaned  forward,  her  parched  voice  threaded  with 
a  note  of  hope. 

"And  no  one  saw  you  as  you  came  through  the 
halls — no  one  of  the  maids?" 

"No  one." 

Half  rising,  she  stared  at  something  ahead  of 
her,  then  stumbled  to  the  door  and  turned  the  key. 
She  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"Take  your  hat  and  coat  and  cane  and  get  be- 
hind that  tapestry." 

The  tapestry  in  question  was  of  exquisite  work- 
manship and  fabulous  value — a  shepherd  leaning 
upon  his  staff,  gamboling  lambs,  a  boy  playing  upon 
a  flute,  the  dimensions  full  five  feet  by  seven.  It 
hung  against  a  surface  flat  to  outward  appearance; 
but  behind  it  was  a  recess  that  had  once  held  a  life- 
size  statue. 

George  Orcutt  drew  in  a  breath  as  of  new  life. 

"What  a  head  you  have !     I  believe  you  can  save 


me." 


"I  shall  try — to  save  my  baby — from — the  dis- 
grace of  your — arrest,"  returned  his  wife,  maternal 
tenderness  flooding  her  breaking  voice.  "You  quar- 
reled over — a  woman?" 

"It  was  a  woman."  George  Orcutt's  gaze  was 
dully  wondering.  The  incomprehensibility  of  it 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  3 

would  never  leave  him.  That  he  could  kill  his 
friends  for  so  slight  a  cause — a  pair  of  faithless  red 
lips  and  a  provocative  smile! 

"There  will  be  room  for  a  chair,"  she  went  on, 
a  little  wildly.  "I  will  arrange  it  so  that  you  can 
get  enough  air.  And  keep  very  quiet  and  don't 
come  out — Oh!  don't  get  afraid  and  come  out — 
not  till  /  tell  you — It  is  only  a  hope — yet — But  stay 
there  quietly  till — I  know " 

The  tapestry  again  in  place  with  him  seated  be- 
hind it,  Gail  Orcutt  unlocked  the  door  and  threw  it 
open.  Then  she  went  to  a  window  and  opened  it 
and  stood  still,  drinking  in  the  cold  air.  The  past 
seven  years  spread  before  her.  To-day  was  the 
seventh  anniversary  of  their  marriage.  She  had 
been  seventeen  then,  an  ardent  girl,  believing  the 
man  she  loved  so  chivalrous  a  creature  that  worship 
was  not  more  than  his  due.  Acolyte  had  never  be- 
lieved more  in  his  patron  saint  than  she  in  George 
Orcutt  when  she  married  him.  Her  belief  in  him 
had  lasted  six  months.  Then  she  had  learned  that 
he  was  faithless  to  her.  He  was  a  lover  of  women, 
not  of  one  woman. 

More,  this  wife  of  seventeen  had  learned  that 
her  own  father  knew!  He  had  smiled  when  she 
came  to  him  with  her  tears  and  hot  anger  and 
heart-break,  had  smiled  patronizingly  as  he  had 
years  before  when  she  cried  over  a  broken  doll! 
A  shattered  plaything,  an  unfaithful  husband — did 
she  not  know  that  these  were  mere  incidents  in  her 


4  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

life?  Of  course,  a  china  toy  would  break;  of  course 
George  Orcutt  would  be  untrue  to  her.  But  why 
cry  his  unfaithfulness  aloud  to  the  world?  This 
was  a  thing  to  hide,  not  to  bruit  abroad. 

And  she  had  hid  it.  She  had  crept  back  home, 
an  outraged  child,  heart-broken  over  her  shattered 
idol.  But  she  could  do  no  more  than  play  the  part 
of  wife.  The  arrangement  had  been  consented  to 
by  George  Orcutt  readily  enough.  He  was  proud 
to  have  this  beautiful  girl  wear  his  name.  He  liked 
scandal  no  better  than  did  his  father-in-law.  His 
amours  were  clandestine.  It  was  only  by  chance 
that  his  wife  had  discovered  his  inconstancy.  For 
which  he  was  at  first  sorry,  and  later,  glad.  Sorry, 
because  in  his  way  he  loved  her;  and  glad,  for  the 
reason  that  he  had  nothing  further  to  fear.  Out- 
side of  perfunctory  courtesies  toward  his  family  his 
life  was  henceforth  his  own.  Till  to-day  he  had  not 
entered  his  wife's  rooms  for  seven  years  less  the 
six  months'  honeymoon. 

That  honeymoon  had  become  more  hideous  to 
Gail  to  contemplate  than  the  later  years'  preten- 
sions. Her  most  poignant  suffering  had  been  caused 
by  the  knowledge  that  sire  had  ever  loved  the  man 
whose  name  she  bore.  There  was  a  sense  of  outrage 
against  herself  that  she  could  ever  have  been  at- 
tracted by  one  so  wholly  unworthy. 

And  George  Orcutt  was  now  a — murderer.  She 
was  the  wife  of  a  murderer.  And  Vance — her 
beautiful  boy!  Her  chivalrous,  high-minded  little 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  5 

son!  The  being  to  whom  she  pinned  all  her  hope 
and  faith  and  love ! — What  would  it  mean  to  Vance 
to  be  branded  as  a  murderer's  son?  Her  hands 
clenched  more  tightly.  The  boy  was  peculiarly  sen- 
sitive. He  would  carry  the  burden  of  his  father's 
guilt  as  fully  as  though  it  were  his  own.  As  boy 
and  man  he  would  be  under  the  shadow  of  this 
awful  thing  that  had  happened  to-day.  It  did  not 
matter  what  Vance  himself  was  or  what  he  should 
become.  He  was  irrevocably  George  Orcutt's  son 
— George  Orcutt,  murderer! 

And  she  had  given  Vance  his  father.  Somehow, 
somehow,  she  should  have  divined  the  ignominy  of 
George  Orcutt's  soul  and  saved  herself  and  her  boy 
from  him.  She  had  been  blind — a  child — unthink- 
ing, unquestioning;  yes — but  even  so 

Her  head  came  up — like  a  mother  doe's  at  bay; 
purpose,  purpose  indomitable,  mingled  with  the 
glazed  agony  of  her  eyes. 

Last  week  at  dinner  she  had  sat  beside  Judge 
Allison  in  his  home  and  heard  him  denounce  the 
police  in  biting  tones.  He  had  said  that  80  per  cent, 
of  all  the  murderers  went  uncaught  and  that  less 
than  2  per  cent,  got  punished.  And  he  had  said 
something  else.  He  had  told  her  how  to  save 
George  Orcutt.  George  Orcutt  was  not  then  a  mur- 
derer; Frederick  Allison  was  not  then  acting  in  the 
capacity  of  judge.  He  was  a  host  entertaining  a 
beautiful  woman — a  woman  seemingly  as  far  re- 
moved from  the  sordid  crime  of  to-day  as  noon 


6  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

from  midnight.  The  Orcutt  name  was  one  of  the 
oldest  and  most  dignified  in  New  York.  George 
Orcutt's  great-grandfather  had  raised  and  supported 
a  regiment  in  the  Revolutionary  army;  his  father,  a 
major-general  of  the  Civil  War,  had  been  prouder 
of  his  title  and  his  maimed  leg  than  of  his  millions. 
It  was  by  a  grant  of  land  from  King  George  II. 
to  the  first  American  Orcutt  that  the  foundation  for 
the  Orcutt  millions  had  been  laid. 

Gail  had  told  Judge  Allison  of  Vance,  her  boy; 
not  tales  of  his  childish  prattle  and  cleverness,  but 
revelations  of  his  character;  and  she  had  told  of 
these  with  a  pathetic  questioning  in  her  eyes — her 
being  unconsciously  pleading  for  assurance  that  her 
son  was  destined  to  become  a  good  man. 

And  the  Judge  had  smiled  on  her  tenderly — on 
the  mother.  For  she  was  now  primarily  not  woman, 
nor  wife,  his  experienced  mind  apprehended,  but  a 
creature  who  had  borne  a  son,  and  who  would  al- 
ways and  forever  bear  him  upon  her  heart. 

It  was  the  mother  who  stood  now  by  the  window 
and  laid  her  plan — the  plan  that  was  to  swing  her 
like  a  pendulum  between  heaven  and  hell. 

As  a  woman  Gail  Orcutt  would  not  have  had  the 
strength  nor  the  cunning  either  to  conceive  this  plan 
or  to  carry  it  into  effect.  As  George  Orcutt's  un- 
loved wife  she  would  not  have  had  the  inspiration. 
But  as  strength  and  endurance  had  come  to  meet 
the  physical  travail  that  gave  her  baby  life,  it  came 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  7 

now  to  save  the  boy  and  the  man  he  was  to  be  from 
the  devastating  shadow  of  the  electric  chair. 

She  did  not  realize  the  terrific  odds  against  her 
in  a  conflict  with  the  law;  she  had  no  knowledge  of 
the  long  arm  with  which  it  encircles  th,e  globe.  It 
was  a  menace  that  threatened  her  offspring,  and  she 
pitted  her  puny  strength  against  it  with  the  instinct 
of  a  mother  sparrow  against  a  hawk.  She  was  blind 
to  everything  but  her  motherhood.  She  was  Pro- 
tector, Defender,  Love,  for  him — her  child! 

She  turned  from  the  window.  She  had  spent  nine 
minutes  in  laying  her  plan.  For  another  minute  she 
stood  motionless  and  gathered  her  resources  to- 
gether— her  courage,  her  pride,  her  woman's  cun- 
ning, her  society  poise,  her  mask  of  coldness  under 
which  she  had  hidden  the  burning  misery  of  these 
six  and  a  half  years. 

"Insight — Wit — Nerve!"  These  were  the  three 
winning  cards  in  the  game  of  crime,  had  been  Judge 
Allison's  pronouncement.  Insight  to  divine  the  road 
the  pursuer  would  take;  wit  to  extricate  oneself 
when  cornered;  nerve  to  play  the  game  through  to 
the  end — making  no  admissions,  conceding  no 
points,  proclaiming  innocence  in  the  face  of  an  army 
of  accusers.  Insight,  wit,  nerve — she  would  have 
these — because  she  must  have  them!  And  one 
other  card  was  hers.  She  was  a  woman  and  beauti- 
ful. There  had  been  times  when  she  had  loathed 
the  beauty  that  had  won  George  Orcutt's  fancy; 
times  when  she  had  hated  her  dependency  as  a 


8  THE    WOMAN'S    LAW 

woman.  Now — Now!  She  whispered  the  word  in 
scared  breath.  Her  hands  came  up  to  her  throat  in 
a  clutch  of  agony.  Now! — the  word  held  but  one 
significance — the  awful  present  and  the  weird  thing 
that  she  must  carry  through. 

She  went  to  the  call-bell,  pressed  the  button  to 
summon  her  maid.  The  girl  appeared,  trim, 
smiling. 

"Tell  Bryan  to  have  the  car  here  in  fifteen  min- 
utes," said  Gail,  and  said  it  carelessly  to  her  own 
amazement.  Then  quietly,  with  no  haste,  she 
waited  while  Sylvie  enveloped  her  in  the  long  sable 
coat,  set  her  hat  at  just  the  right  angle,  patted  a 
loose  lock  into  place,  fastened  her  gloves,  pinned  a 
fragrant  rose  at  her  waist,  handed  her  the  pillowy 
muff. 

"Zat  is  all,"  said  Sylvie,  surveying  her  work 
carefully.  "Non,  one  thing  more,  madame.  Ze 
cheeks  want  a  little  color,  a  vair  little."  Sylvie  said 
this  coaxingly,  for  she  and  "madame"  did  not  al- 
ways agree  as  to  the  necessity  of  rouge. 

But  to-day,  to  the  delight  of  Sylvie's  French  art- 
istry, madame  was  complacent.  Nor  did  she  dis- 
sent when  the  "vair  little"  became  considerable. 
Sylvie  was  radiant. 

"Now  madame  is  trans cendente"  she  cried.  "It 
is  ze  color  zat  gives  ze  vivacitf,  ouif" 

Gail  smiled,  with  her  lips,  and  the  long  lashes  hid 
the  terror  that  leapt  to  her  eyes  as  she  went  out  and 
left  Sylvie  in  the  room — the  room  with  the  tapestry. 


II 


RIVE  very  slowly,  and  near  the  curbing,"  was 
Gail's  order  to  the  chauffeur.  "And  keep  to 
the  thoroughfares,  where  the  sidewalks  are  crowded 
with  people.  Keep  going  till  I  signal  you  to  stop." 

The  car  moved  forward.  Down  the  Drive  to 
Seventy-second  Street,  through  the  Park  and  on  to 
Fifth  Avenue;  down  the  Avenue  to  Sixteenth  Street; 
across  to  Broadway;  up  Broadway;  thence  on  Forty- 
second  Street  to  the  Grand  Central  Terminal.  The 
car  turned,  went  back  over  the  ground. 

Gail's  eyes,  filled  with  desperate  questioning, 
gazed  out  on  the  medley  of  faces.  There  was  every 
face  there  but  the  kind  she  sought.  Yet  Judge  Allison 
had  said  that  he  could  find  his  double  in  a  search 
of  three  blocks — his  double  as  regarded  height, 
weight,  shape  of  head,  color  of  eyes  and  hair,  his 
double  in  these  and  all  of  the  characteristics  that 
could  be  conveyed  by  a  description. 

At  the  corner  of  Forty-second  and  Broadway  the 
automobile  came  to  a  full  stop,  held  up  with  a  score 
of  other  vehicles  by  the  white-gloved  hand  of  an 
officer  till  the  waiting  pedestrians  were  escorted 

9 


io  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

across  the  crowded  thoroughfare.  Gail,  her  eyes 
still  filled  with  agonized  questioning,  gazed  out  on 
the  passing  faces.  An  instant's  wild  staring,  then 
she  opened  the  door  and  almost  flung  herself  on 
the  man  standing  on  the  curbing  directly  facing  her. 
She  pushed  him  within  the  limousine  and  sat  down 
pantingly  beside  him.  The  chauffeur,  eyes  on  the 
officer,  ears  deadened  by  the  din  of  the  jangling 
traffic,  drove  on,  unaware  of  the  scene  so  quickly 
enacted. 

For  a  breathless  moment  Gail's  eyes  traversed 
the  face  of  the  man  beside  her.  She  took  stock  of 
his  features;  of  his  shoulders;  his  body.  Then 

"You  are  a  gentleman,"  she  uttered  rapidly. 
"And  I  am  a  woman  in  need,  the  greatest  need. 
You  can  help  me.  I  can't  tell  you  why.  But — Give 
me  a  day  of  your  life.  One  day!  On  a  hazard — 
without  questions."  She  bent  her  face  nearer  to 
him,  her  alluring  face  whose  power  she  knew.  "I 
am  asking  you  for  a  service  that  requires  courage 
and  faith  in  me.  Will  you  go  blindly  into  what 
may  seem  to  you  grave  peril? — for  the  sake  of  an 
unknown  child  and — and — a  mother?  It  is  my 
motherhood  that  makes  me  brave  enough  to  ask  this 
— to  beg  you  to  give  a  day  of  your  life  to  me  to 
use  for  myself,  in  my  own  way.  Will  you?" 

The  man's  eyes  rested  on  her  in  a  dazed,  un- 
blinking way.  He  knitted  his  brows.  His  lips 
opened,  but  he  did  not  speak. 

"Will  you?"  she  repeated,  tensely. 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  n 

His  hand  reached  up  and  grasped  his  hat  between 
wavering  fingers.  He  laid  it  on  his  knee. 

"Excuse  me,  dear,"  he  stammered.  "I  forgot  I 
was  in  the  house.  I " 

There  was  bewilderment  in  the  eyes  he  fastened 
upon  her.  Again  he  knitted  his  brows.  She  saw 
that  he  did  this  in  an  effort  to  think — a  vain  effort. 
It  was  apparent  that  he  did  not  understand  her 
words.  His  lips  parted,  mumbled  something,  stayed 
parted  in  a  vacant  smile. 

Gail  looked  at  him  again,  closely. 

It  came  to  her  comprehension  that  the  vague  un- 
winking orbs  and  the  lax  mouth  bespoke  a  stunned 
brain. 

She  drew  in  her  breath. 

Here  was  a  graver  risk  than  the  other.  A  gen- 
tleman might  serve  her  through  chivalry,  or  daring, 
or  from  desire  for  a  new  adventure,  or  for  all 
reasons — or  for  no  reason  at  all ;  and  a  gentleman's 
word  once  passed  would  remain  inviolate.  But  the 
befogged  brain  beside  her — was  there  any  depend- 
ence in  it?  Was  it  passive  or 

She  did  not  complete  the  question.  Her  being, 
keyed  to  action,  instinctively  girded  itself  for  the 
plunge. 

She  placed  the  man's  hat  on  his  head.  "Keep  it 
on,"  she  urged,  her  voice  coaxing,  as  to  a  child. 
The  man  smiled  in  a  tired  way,  and  let  her  envelop 
him  in  a  fur-lined  coat  of  George  Orcutt's  that  she 
drew  from  beneath  the  seat.  She  brought  the  collar 


12  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

up  over  his  necktie.  A  long  scrutinizing  look  at  her 
work,  then  she  drew  the  stop-strap  and  waited. 

The  chauffeur's  face  betrayed  surprise  as  he  saw 
the  other  occupant. 

"Mr.  Orcutt  got  in  when  the  car  stopped  a  few 
blocks  back,"  she  explained,  and  listened  in  a  daze 
at  her  own  voice.  "I  received  a  telephone  message 
that  he  was  wandering  about  the  streets  alone  and 
not — not  well.  I  was  looking  for  him."  She  stepped 
out.  "He  is — ill,  out  of  his  head  somewhat.  Stand 
close  by  the  door  and  don't  let  him  get  out." 

She  swept  by  him  and  into  the  candy  shop  before 
which  she  had  stopped  the  car. 

The  chauffeur  smiled  as  he  guarded  the  door. 
So  Mr.  Orcutt  was  "ill."  And  his  wife  thought  she 
needed  to  tell  him,  Tom  Bryan,  who  drove  Orcutt 
home  after  his  nights'  debauches!  That  is,  when 
he  went  home.  Yet — it  was  unusual  for  him  to  be 
"ill"  at  this  hour.  And  he  did  look  strange,  curi- 
ously unlike  himself.  Bryan's  gaze,  unconsciously 
questioning,  turned  on  Mrs.  Orcutt  as  she  appeared. 

The  woman's  tense  muscles  tightened  a  fraction 
more.  It  was  here  that  the  test  was  to  come.  Bryan 
saw  that  there  was  a  difference  between  the  George 
Orcutt  of  yesterday  and  the  George  Orcutt  of  to- 
day. 

Her  being  sickened  with  fright.  Judge  Allison 
had  said  that  the  easiest  way  to  deceive  a  fellow 
being  was  to  lead  him  into  deceiving  himself;  that 
a  man  involuntarily  questions  another's  opinion  and 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  13 

instinctively  defends  his  own.  Once  having  said 
that  green  is  blue  he  would  insist  upon  it,  and  swear 
to  it,  and  eventually  believe  it. 

Yet — to  direct  Bryan's  attention  to  the  differ- 
ence he  saw — Things  reeled  before  her  eyes — So 
much  depended  upon  the  successful  carrying  out  of 
her  plan — And  how  could  she  be  sure 

Bryan's  eyes  still  questioned. 

"Mr.  Orcutt  looks  very  strange  to  me,"  she  whis- 
pered. "I  have  never  seen  him  look  nor  act  so — 
peculiar.  Is  it  anything  unusual?  Or  have  you 
known  him  to  be — like  this?  I  wonder  if  I  had 
better  have  our  physician  see  him." 

Tom  Bryan's  open  face  could  not  fully  hide  his 
inward  laughter.  A  physician? 

"A  few  hours'  sleep'll  fix  him.  There's  nothing 
to  worry  about,  Mrs.  Orcutt.  Home?" 

A  smile  bordering  on  hysteria  came  to  Gail  Or- 
cutt's  face  as  the  car  shot  forward.  Bryan  had  ac- 
cepted this  stranger  for  his  employer!  Bryan  who 
had  known  Orcutt  for  five  years! 

Her  drooping  head  rose — the  proud  head  that 
not  even  George  Orcutt's  mad,  foolish  crime  could 
lower.  No!  she  breathed  fiercely.  No!  She  had 
set  herself  to  find  a  way  to  save  her  baby.  There 
was  always  a  way,  the  judge  had  said,  when  one 
had  a  brain  and  eyes  and  ears. 

Different,  strange,  unusual,  bewildering,  the 
looks  of  this  man  might  be  thought  to  be,  but  it 
would  be  George  Orcutt  who  looked  peculiar, 


i4  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

George  Orcutt,  no  other.  This  stranger  thrown  up 
at  her  from  the  curbing  should  be  George  Orcutt 
till  the  true  Orcutt  was  safely  out  of  the  country. 
This  was  her  plan.  And  somehow  she  should  make 
it  succeed.  Unless But  ah!  the  man  must  re- 
main passive — must! 

"Don't  cry,  dear." 

Her  eyes  questioned  his  hopefully. 

But  vacancy  again  replaced  his  fleeting  under- 
standing, blankness  suspended  the  compassion  of 
his  gaze.  His  eyes,  bent  on  her  face,  seemed  not 
to  see  her,  not  even  as  she  drew  him  to  his  feet  at 
the  halting  of  the  car. 

Bryan,  acting  on  the  premise  long  since  learned, 
that  his  employer  always  needed  support  when  "ill," 
put  an  arm  under  the  man's  elbow  and  carefully 
guided  him  into  the  house.  He  moved  without  pro- 
test. 

The  mistress  of  the  house  followed — languidly, 
as  though  no  shaking  figure  crouched  behind  a  tapes- 
try, no  stark  body  lay  grimly  silent  on  a  floor,  a  Chi- 
nese dirk  piercing  its  heart.  Yet  Gail  Orcutt's  eyes 
held  these  two  images.  And  another — the  image 
of  herself  playing  a  weird  part.  And  this  was  as 
unreal  as  the  other  two.  Lucas  Emmet  was  not 
dead — George  Orcutt  was  not  a  murderer — She 
was  not  seeing  a  stranger  go  into  her  home  on 
Bryan's  arm. 

An  hour  ago  she  had  watched  a  ship  go  by,  a 
six-masted  schooner,  sails  outspread.  She  had 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  15 

thrilled  aesthetically  as  it  skimmed,  like  an  eerie 
human  thing,  over  the  blue  water.  And  she  had 
thought  of  a  sea-blue  gown  that  she  was  to  wear  to 
the  opera  that  night.  That  night?  This  night! 

No !  There  was  no  reality  in  these  images  be- 
fore her  eyes.  There  was  not — because  there  could 
not  be!  Yet 

"Take  Mr.  Orcutt  to  my  room,"  she  heard  her- 
self saying  to  Bryan.  "I  want  to  see  how  long  one 
of  these  attacks  lasts." 

Bryan  chuckled  to  himself  over  this  new  move  of 
the  madam's.  He  left  George  Orcutt  in  his  wife's 
hands  with  the  hope  that  he  would  get  a  little  of 
what  was  legitimately  coming  to  him.  Not  that 
he  felt  it  would  do  him  any  good.  But  that  was 
beside  the  point.  A  man  who  had  a  peach  of  a 
wife  and  didn't  know  how  to  treat  her  should  at 
least  be  made  to  pay  for  his  neglect  by  being  hauled 
over  the  coals  and  made  as  uncomfortable  as  pos- 
sible between  whiles. 

Gail  waited  till  she  could  no  longer  hear  Bryan's 
retreating  footsteps,  then  she  closed  and  locked  the 
door,  and  staggered  to  a  chair.  Again  a  catching 
sob  broke  from  her  aching  throat. 

The  man  moved  toward  her,  a  comforting  hand 
outstretched. 

"Don't,  dear,  don't!"  he  entreated. 

Shivering,  she  shrank  away  from  him — a 
woman's  instinctive  shrinking  from  the  touch  of  a 
stranger. 


1 6  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

But,  as  before,  the  man's  interest  was  but  transi- 
tory. His  hand  fell  aimlessly  to  his  side.  He  stood 
still  in  the  strange  room  with  only  a  dumb  stare  in 
his  eyes,  the  unheeding  stare  of  one  who  has  no 
mental  vision. 

Gail  left  him  where  he  stood,  removed  her  wrap 
and  hat,  took  a  few  moments  to  quell  the  beating  of 
her  overwrought  heart.  Then — in  a  low  voice  she 
called  her  husband. 


Ill 


/^EORGE  ORCUTTS  bulging  eyes  leapt  from 
^^  the  face  of  the  man  to  the  strained  counte- 
nance of  his  wife. 

"Am  I  out  of  my  head?  What  does  this  mean, 
Gail?  Good  God!  What  does  this  mean?" 

His  wife  did  not  answer.  Her  eyes  travelled 
from  man  to  man.  Theirs  was  the  same  shaped 
face,  the  same  full  forehead  and  thick  brown  hair, 
the  same  golden-brown  mustache  and  Vandyke 
beard,  eyes  of  almost  identical  brownness.  The 
noses  were  different,  but  not  pronouncedly  so;  the 
contours  of  the  cheeks  were  unlike,  but  only  slightly; 
the  ears  were  of  different  shapes — but  who  ever 
remembered  an  ear  save  it  was  deforming  in  its  in- 
dividuality? Till  now  she  could  not  have  told  what 
shape  her  husband's  were. 

Both  were  of  medium  height  and  build,  the  pos- 
sible inch's  or  pound's  difference  would  not  attract 
notice  even  from  intimates.  No;  for  Bryan's  mo- 
bile boyish  face  had  shown  that  nothing  strange 
impressed  him  about  the  stature  and  weight  of  the 
man  he  helped  from  car  to  room.  The  dissimilari- 


1 8  THE    WOMAN'S    LAW 

ties  were  unimportant,  the  likeness  striking.  A 
Vandyke  beard  was  so  unusual  a  feature  of  a  man's 
face  of  to-day  that  it  alone  would  cause  one  man 
to  be  taken  for  the  other  in  almost  any  crowd  of 
ordinary  acquaintances.  And  when  this  beard  was 
golden-brown!  Would  even  the  most  astute  of- 
ficer of  the  law  look  further  with  this  before  him  in 
George  Orcutt's  home? 

"Gail!     Tell  me!" 

There  was  the  agony  of  hope  in  Orcutt's  frenzied 
voice. 

"Wait." 

Gail  led  the  stranger  into  her  boudoir,  inaccessi- 
ble except  from  the  one  entrance,  and  placed  him 
in  an  easy  chair.  She  waited  till  she  saw  his  head 
sink  back  among  the  cushions  and  his  eyes  close  in 
stupor,  then  she  left  him,  closing  the  door  between 
them. 

"Now!"  cried  George  Orcutt.  He  laid  a  fever- 
ish hand  on  her  arm.  "That  man — have  you  bribed 
him  to  take  my  place  till  I'm  on  safe  territory?  But 

can  you  trust  him?  And "  Amazement  spoke 

above  all  else — "where  did  you  find  another  beard 
and  forehead  like  mine?  Did  the  devil  fling  up  this 
man  from  the  pavement?" 

"Perhaps  it  was  the  devil — they  say  he  looks  out 
for  his  own,"  she  returned  in  tired  voice.  "We 
have  something  to  do  now  whether  it  is  with  or 
without  the  devil's  aid.  And  you  must  obey  me 
without  questioning.  First,  you  are  to  go  in  there 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  19 

and  strip  that  man  and  put  the  clothes  on  him  that 
you  are  now  wearing — every  article.  You  will  find 
a  bath-robe  of  mine  in  the  closet  that  you  can  put 
on  yourself  till  I  can  bring  you  other  clothes  from 
your  room.  Wrap  his  clothes  together  so  that  you 
can  take  them  with  you  behind  the  tapestry.  When 
he  is  ready  to  do  duty  as  George  Orcutt,  you  and 
I  can  plan  further.  .  .  .  He  is  out  of  his  head, 
he  will  not  resist  you.  .  .  .  He  is  a  gentleman — I 
am  not  buying  him — Go !  there  is  no  need  now  for 
you  to  understand." 

George  Orcutt's  wife  sat  with  locked  hands,  al- 
most motionless,  till  he  returned. 

A  week  ago  she  had  told  Judge  Allison  that  a 
good  woman  could  not  commit  a  crime,  that  some 
force  from  within  would  keep  her  from  it.  And  the 
judge  had  smiled — curiously.  And  he  had  asked 
her  just  what  she  meant  by  a  "good  woman."  And 
he  had  told  her  that  some  of  the  greatest  crimes 
were  committed  by  women  whose  inner  lives  had 
always  been  pure.  Love  of  country,  love  of  hus- 
band, love  of  offspring — a  good  woman  would  lie 
and  rob  and  slay  for  these  idols  of  her  heart.  Gail 
had  wondered  vaguely  to  herself  how  a  good  woman 
— a  woman  who  had  always  been  honest,  honorable, 
truthful,  frank,  could  scheme  and  plot  and  intrigue. 
She  wondered  now  how  she  herself  could.  She 
scorned  lying  and  deceit.  She  had  a  passion  for 
truth.  In  all  her  life  she  had  never  wantonly  hurt 
any  living  creature.  In  her  dealings  with  trades- 


20  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

people  and  servants  she  was  deeply  considerate.  She 
had  a  yearning  tenderness  for  all  helpless  things. 

Yet 

There  was  a  helpless  stranger  in  the  other  room 
— a  helpless  stranger  that  she  had  brought  here ! 
And  she,  no  other,  was  going  to  hold  him  from — 
mother? — wife? — child? — She  did  not  know,  and 
it  did  not  matter.  This  was  the  horrifying  part  of 
it.  She  crouched  low  in  her  chair,  tried  to  hide 
herself  from  her  own  accusing  vision. 

"A  day,  two  days  at  the  most,  and  he  will  be 
again  with — the  one  he  calls  'dear,'  "  she  uttered 
in  a  childish  whisper. 

George  Orcutt  entered  the  room.  His  wife 
started  a  little  at  his  appearance;  the  voluminous 
bath-robe  draped  about  him  was  becomingly  Gre- 
cian, and  his  face  in  his  excitement  had  lost  some 
of  its  pallor  of  dissipation.  His  dulled  eyes  were 
bright  now,  and  his  voice  had  recovered  its  reso- 
nance. 

"I  am  saved,"  he  announced.  "George  Orcutt 
is  in  there.  A  clean  shave,  a  new  name,  hair  parted 
differently,  my  pivot  teeth  removed,  will  be  the  only 
disguise  I  need  to  leave  the  country.  How  long 
can  you  keep  him  doped?" 

She  did  not  explain. 

"You're  a  witch,"  he  continued.  His  head 
bowed  dejectedly.  "And  I've  lost  you  now  forever 
— and  my  boy!  If  I  had  my  life  to  live  over 
again!" 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  21 

His  wife  looked  at  him  wistfully. 

"I  wish  I  weren't  such  a  rotter,"  he  added,  with 
feeling. 

"I  wish  you  weren't,"  she  returned  with  low 
fervor.  "Till  to-day — I  never  fully  lost  hope  that 
you  might  sometime  do  differently.  I  should  have 
no  pity  for  you.  Yet — I  have.  I  can  never  forget 
that  you  are  Vance's  father.  And  for  his  sake, 
your  son's  who  loves  you,  try,  try,  with  all  your 
strength  to  keep  enough  control  of  yourself  not  to 
betray  your  secret.  Lock  your  name,  your  past, 
every  identifying  link,  within  your  heart  and  keep 
them  there.  I  will  find  a  way  to  provide  you  with 
an  income.  But  you  must  wait  always  for  my  move. 
The  unforgivable  thing  now  would  be  for  you  to 
allow  yourself  to  be  taken." 

George  Orcutt  shuddered. 

"I've  put  my  mind  in  hell.  I'll  try  to  keep  my 
body  out  of  prison." 

"You  must!"  Her  voice  was  passionate.  "You 
owe  that  much  to  Vance."  Her  words  ended  in  a 
dry  sob.  "Let  us  not  talk  any  more  just  now.  I 
need  my  strength.  I  must  plan  to  get  you  away — 
and  for  a  hundred  details." 

She  walked  to   the  window,   stood  immovable. 

He  took  a  step  toward  her. 

"I  wish  you  could  be  free  of  me  in  some  way. 
Free  to  marry  some  one  else.  I've  never  thought 
about  it  before — if — if  there  should  be  some  one 
you  want,  why "  He  groaned  remorsefully. 


22 

"You  don't  owe  me  anything,  remember.  No  mat- 
ter what  a  man  is  himself  he  wants  his  wife 

straight Only  there's  a  limit,  and  I've  gone  it. 

I  have  no  claim — you — er — understand  what  I 
mean." 

"I  have  lost  my  faith  in  love  between  man  and 
woman,"  she  answered  dully.  "To-day's  murder  is 
not  the  first  that  you  have  committed — and  slaying 
my  faith  is  not  the  lesser  crime.  After  knowing 
you  I  never  want  to  know  another  man  intimately." 

"You  mustn't  feel  like  that,"  he  cried  with  sud- 
den virtue.  "There's  Vance,  our  boy.  You  must 
bring  him  up " 

"Stop !  There  is  something  that  it  is  now  too 
late  to  give  him — a  decent  father.  When  I  look 
at  my  innocent  baby,  at  his  dear  open  face,  his  hon- 
est eyes,  his  precious  smile,  I  feel  that  surely,  surely, 
surely,  he  will  be  a  good  man,  honorable,  faithful, 
a  loyal  husband  and  father.  Then — I  remember 
the  look  that  is  in  your  pictured  face  as  a  little  boy, 

the  same  honesty  and  truth  that "  She  broke 

off,  shivering.  "Let  us  not  talk  about  it!  I  shall 
love  him  as  he  is  now,  and  try  not  to  think  about 
— what  he — may — be " 

"But  he  must  be  kept  from — from — oh!  the 
things  that  make  a  man  go  to  the  devil!"  he  com- 
manded. 

Gail  smiled  drearily. 

"Does  a  mother  ever  know  what  those  things 
are?  I  shall  do  all  I  can — now.  Nor  can  I  blame 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  23 

myself  for  not  giving  him  a  good  father — I  thought 

the  man  I  married  was  good My  boy  and  I 

were  both  cheated " 

She  turned  abruptly,  her  bearing  suddenly  calm. 

"They  are  coming  up  the  walk  now — an  officer 
and  another  man.  The  tapestry!" 

Her  eyes  swept  the  room  to  see  that  nothing  sus- 
picious lay  about,  then  she  went  swiftly  and  looked 
at  the  man  reposing  in  her  boudoir.  He  still  half 
reclined  in  the  be-pillowed  chair  she  had  arranged, 
his  eyes  partly  closed  in  stupor.  As  she  bent  over 
him  to  see  that  all  was  as  it  should  be,  his  eyes 
took  on  a  gleam  of  intelligence. 

"My — own — girl "  he  mumbled. 

"Gail,"  she  pronounced  slowly.  "Gail.  Say  it 
Gail!" 

His  brows  came  together  pathetically.  She  saw 
that  it  was  useless  to  try  to  impress  her  name  on  his 
fleeting  consciousness. 

And  just  then  there  came  a  knock  at  the  door. 


IV 


*  I  VHE  killing  of  Lucas  Emmet  by  George  Orcutt 
•*•  was  front  page  news  next  day.  Each  news- 
paper reported  the  crime  according  to  its  particular 
custom.  Among  them  all  no  detail  was  knowingly 
allowed  to  escape  publicity.  There  were  pictures 
in  numerous  poses  of  the  murderer  and  his  victim, 
pictures  of  the  woman  in  the  case,  pictures  of  the 
room  where  the  murder  took  place,  pictures  of  the 
men's  homes,  their  clubs,  their  relatives  and  serv- 
ants. But  the  thing  most  featured  was  the  knife 
found  in  the  dead  man's  heart.  The  imaginations 
of  the  reportorial  staffs  created  a  background  for 
the  present  crime  with  tales  of  other  crimes  en- 
compassed by  the  use  of  this  ancient  Chinese  dirk — 
lurid,  ghastly,  blood-congealing  in  their  horror.  It 
lifted  the  commonplace  killing  of  man  by  man  into 
a  realm  of  mystery  and  romance  and  occultism.  It 
wrapt  the  magic  of  the  Orient  about  it. 

Bared  of  tawdry  sensationalism,  melodrama,  and 
cheap  moralizing,  the  story  as  known  was  bald 
enough,  similar  to  hundreds  in  the  back  files  of  city 
dailies.  One  paper  told  the  tale  in  half  a  column. 

24 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  25 

Following  upon  a  few  mild  headlines  came  the  la- 
conic statement: 

"Yesterday  at  three  in  the  afternoon  George  W. 
Orcutt,  millionaire,  clubman,  noted  whip,  stabbed 
and  instantly  killed  Lucas  Emmet,  well  and  favor- 
ably known  as  a  painter  of  the  nude.  Friends  for 
a  number  of  years,  jealousy  over  a  beautiful  model 
of  Emmet's  alienated  the  men.  Though  still  friends 
outwardly  they  had  been  figuratively  at  each  other's 
throats  for  a  year. 

"The  murder  occurred  in  Emmet's  studio  in  the 
Landseer  Building.  Neighboring  studios  were  oc- 
cupied at  the  time,  but  no  one  knew  anything  of 
the  tragedy,  or  had  any  suspicion  of  it  till  discovery 
at  five  o'clock  by  Edgar  Just  Brewer  and  Frank 
Adamson,  artist  friends  of  Emmet's.  Orcutt  and 
Emmet  were  known  to  have  had  lunch  together  and 
to  have  started  together  at  2:30  for  Emmet's  stu- 
dio. Orcutt  was  seen  leaving  Emmet's  studio  at 
3  :3O.  There  was  no  evidence  of  a  struggle.  Em- 
met lay  on  the  floor  in  a  pool  of  blood,  his  heart 
pierced  through  with  a  Chinese  dirk  having  Orcutt's 
name  in  full  engraved  on  the  handle.  This  dirk  is 
one  of  unusual  workmanship  and  beauty,  and  very 
old.  Orcutt  always  carried  it,  but  as  an  antique  to 
be  shown,  not  as  a  weapon. 

"Orcutt  was  apprehended  at  his  home  on  River- 
side Drive  at  5  130  P.  M.  by  Officer  Fagan  and  De- 
tective Warren,  to  their  great  surprise,  as  his  home 


26 

was  the  least  likely  place  it  was  expected  to  find 
him. 

"The  exact  circumstances  of  the  murder  may 
never  be  known.  Orcutt  is  mentally  unbalanced.  At 
first  his  stunned  expression  and  disjointed  speech 
were  looked  upon  as  acting.  But  the  testimony  of 
alienists  Upman  and  Scott  who  examined  him  last 
night  show  that  his  brain  is  seriously  affected.  By 
their  diagnosis  the  malady  is  the  immediate  effect 
of  a  shock — in  their  opinion  terror  contingent  upon 
the  killing  of  his  friend.  Upon  this  premise  they 
also  base  a  hypothesis  that  the  murder  was  not  pre- 
meditated. For  had  it  been  planned  his  mind  would 
have  been  prepared  for  the  catastrophe  and  no  seri- 
ous shock  would  have  resulted.  Orcutt  is  now  at 
his  home  under  guard.  He  will  be  placed  in  an 
asylum  for  the  insane,  whether  one  for  the  crim- 
inal insane  or  in  a  private  hospital  will  be  at  the 
discretion  of  the  Court. 

"Seven  years  ago  yesterday  George  W.  Orcutt 
was  married  to  Miss  Gail  Revelling,  daughter  of 
the  late  Hon.  Clayton  Revelling,  at  one  time  consul 
to  Rio  Janeiro.  Miss  Revelling  was  then  seventeen, 
and  considered  one  of  the  most  beautiful  girls  in 
New  York.  A  painting  of  her  by  Hugh  Orville, 
entitled  'Youth/  made  a  furore  in  artistic  circles 
and  was  the  beginning  of  Orville's  great  popularity 
as  a  painter  of  women.  Until  that  period  he  had 
vainly  sought  recognition  for  his  talent.  It  was  this 
painting  that  attracted  the  attention  of  George  Or- 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  27 

cutt  and  led  to  his  marriage  with  the  original.  They 
have  one  child,  a  boy  of  six. 

"Lucas  Emmet  was  unmarried.  He  had  an  in- 
ternational reputation  as  a  painter  of  nude  figures. 
He  was  engaged  on  a  work  entitled  'Innocence,'  a 
group  of  five  elfish  urchins  preparatory  to  a  swim." 

The  first  thrill  of  the  murder  over,  the  public 
mind  focused  itself  upon  the  punishment  that  should 
be  meted  out  to  the  murderer.  Press  and  pulpit, 
the  man  in  the  street,  the  newsboys,  the  matinee 
crowd,  the  suburbs,  all  of  Gotham  argued  the  case 
and  passed  judgment  upon  it.  A  few  believed  the 
testimony  of  the  alienists,  but  the  majority  smiled 
cynically  at  or  openly  derided  the  plea  of  insanity. 
Letters  and  telegrams  poured  in  upon  the  district 
attorney  demanding  that  this  "millionaire  mur- 
derer" be  sent  to  the  electric  chair,  to  Sing  Sing,  to 
Matteawan.  Many  of  the  communications  con- 
tained a  dire  threat  against  the  district  attorney's 
life  in  case  the  given  mandate  was  not  obeyed. 

Meanwhile,  the  man  supposed  to  be  George  Or- 
cutt  remained  in  the  Orcutt  home  under  guard. 
Here  came  the  district  attorney  daily  and  a  succes- 
sion of  alienists.  Orcutt  was  examined  and  his 
condition  passed  upon  hourly,  or  so  it  seemed  to 
Gail,  awaiting  the  outcome  in  agony  of  spirit. 

But  the  outcome  to  Gail  was  not,  as  with  the 
people,  where  should  this  man  be  placed,  but  when 
would  he  be  claimed  by  his  friends  and  the  search 
for  the  real  George  Orcutt  begin. 


28  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

Every  minute  that  first  day  she  listened  for  the 
ring  of  the  door-bell  and  every  ring  meant  that  she 
was  found  out.  But  day  was  added  to  day  till  a 
week  had  passed,  and  no  one  came  to  claim  the 
stranger. 

Under  the  alert  eyes  of  two  guards  he  sat  in 
George  Orcutt's  room,  his  brows  puckered  in  the 
painful  effort  to  think  that  he  had  shown  that  first 
day.  He  obeyed  Gail,  the  guards,  his  attendant, 
the  alienists,  the  district  attorney,  all  automatically. 
He  lived  in  a  dreamlike  state  broken  by  fitful  gleams 
of  lucidity,  a  pathetic  straining  effort  after  the  con- 
sciousness he  had  lost.  He  called  Gail  "Dear," 
and  though  he  remembered  no  one  else  from  day 
to  day,  her  he  distinguished  from  the  others.  He 
would  take  her  hand  and  hold  it  between  his  own, 
gently,  starting  up  with  fright  when  she  drew  it 
away. 

"Don't  leave  me,  dear,  don't  leave  me!" 

Always  the  same  cry  and  in  the  same  suffering 
voice. 

Gail  sat  for  hours  beside  him,  her  hand  in  his. 
His  eyes,  in  the  fleeting  moments  of  comparative 
consciousness,  were  boyishly  candid.  And  there 
was  a  simple  dignity  in  his  manner  that  gave  a  curi- 
ous impression  of  poise,  despite  his  shattered  mind. 

It  was  the  man  himself  that  finally  decided  the 
district  attorney  upon  the  course  he  took.  He  had 
heard  alienists  of  repute  and  standing  testify  against 
a  prisoner's  sanity,  and  alienists  of  equal  repute  and 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  29 

standing  testify  for  it;  he  had  listened  many  times 
to  the  plea  of  a  heart-broken  wife,  and  he  was  re- 
peatedly asked  mercy  for  the  sake  of  a  child. 

He  watched  the  accused,  studied  him,  and  as  the 
man's  personality  grew  upon  him,  he  began  to  ques- 
tion George  Orcutt's  part  in  the  murder  and  to 
doubt  the  enormity  of  his  other  sins. 

Gail  saw  him  soften,  saw,  too,  that  this  shrewd 
man  of  the  law  had  begun  to  wonder  a  little,  an 
aimless  wonder  as  yet,  a  wonder  that  was  partly 
annoyance  that  this  man  should  not  conform  to  the 
case  against  him.  To  brand  George  Orcutt  a  crim- 
inal would  please  the  people — the  voter — and  it 
could  be  so  easily  done.  Mrs.  Orcutt  had  not  en- 
gaged counsel,  she  waited  like  a  dazed  child  for 
the  law  to  take  its  course.  He  wondered  if  she 
knew  how  astute  she  was  in  throwing  herself  upon 
his  mercy,  trusting  her  case  wholly  to  his  honor; 
and  if  she  realized  the  strength  of  her  statement 
repeated  with  nai've  simplicity  at  his  every  visit. 

"You  won't  let  them  put  him  in  a  prison  of  any 
kind,  you  won't,  you  won't!  He  didn't  know  what 
he  was  doing.  It  would  be  as  wrong  to  shut  him 
up  with  criminals  as  to — to  shut  me — or — you." 

That  this  innocent  man  should  be  put  in  a  crim- 
inal institution  was  a  new  horror  for  Gail  to  con- 
template, and  a  horror  that  she  felt  she  could  not 
live  under  daily.  If  he  were  searched  out  and  his 
family  and  friends  should  find  him  herded  with 
criminals!  She  had  known  nothing  about  the  law 


30  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

when  she  asked  this  man  for  a  day  out  of  his  life. 
A  day's  respite  while  her  husband  got  aboard  a  ship 
and  sailed  away  had  seemed  enough  to  ask — then; 
now — she  knew  that  a  day  would  have  availed  her 
nothing. 

She  had  dared  mightily  in  her  ignorance  and  fate 
had  done  the  rest — so  well  that  she  now  let  it  sweep 
her  along  unresisting.  But  she  could  not  let  this 

hapless  man  be  branded  a  criminal No,  no, 

no  I  The  awfulness  of  his  position  and  her  own 
part  in  it  clutched  her  till  the  horror  of  it  got  into 
her  voice. 

"To  make  a  criminal  of  him  would  be  oh!  a 
dreadful,  dreadful  wrong,"  was  weighted  with  a 
truth  that  carried  conviction. 

The  district  attorney  was  a  man  who  had  the 
courage  of  his  beliefs.  Eight  days  after  the  killing 
of  Lucas  Emmet  he  pronounced  Orcutt  insane,  and 
remanded  him,  a  ward  of  the  State,  to  a  private  in- 
stitution, the  sanatorium  of  Doctor  Morris  Under- 
wood, near  Valhalla,  an  institution  that  took  only 
male  patients  and  that  was  unusually  successful  in 
its  treatment  of  mental  diseases. 

A  fury  of  protest  and  abuse  broke  loose  upon 
the  attorney's  head.  Press  and  park  agitator  and 
people  jeered  and  shrieked  and  threatened — for  a 
day.  The  day  after,  the  Emmet-Orcutt  tragedy 
was  forgotten  by  the  public.  The  Japanese  had 
fired  upon  the  Russians  at  Port  Arthur  and  the 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  31' 

Russo-Japanese  war  was  front  page  news  for  that 
day  and  for  many  a  day  thereafter. 

Gail  did  not  read  the  war  news,  she  hardly  knew 
it  was  there.  She  was  still  searching  for  mention 
of  a  lost  man  of  unbalanced  mind  and  Vandyke 
beard.  But  day  followed  upon  day  and  each  suc- 
ceeding day's  news  was  as  void  of  the  one  vital 
matter  as  the  day's  before.  There  were  lost  men  in 
plenty;  lost  women  and  girls;  lost  children;  lost 
babies.  She  was  amazed  at  the  number  of  missing 
people.  And  dumbfounded  when  a  week,  two  weeks, 
three  weeks  went  by,  and  no  notice  appeared  about 
the  man  she  had  picked  up  from  the  curbing. 

Four  weeks  after  the  murder  she  gathered  the 
array  of  dailies  and  piled  them  together  to  be  car- 
ried out  of  her  room.  She  gave  orders  that  she 
did  not  want  to  see  any  but  her  regular  paper  there- 
after. She  had  searched  through  every  column  of 
every  New  York  daily  for  four  weeks.  She  would 
search  no  more.  If  the  man  had  a  mother  she 
would  have  found  him  before  now.  It  was  the 
thought  of  a  heart-breaking  mother  that  had  driven 
Gail  to  seek  to  learn  the  identity  of  the  demented 
man.  And  she  had  sought  diligently,  even  though 
reason  told  her  that  had  there  been  any  one  to  claim 
him,  this  would  have  been  done  very  shortly  after 
the  murder.  Had  he  relatives  or  friends  they  must 
surely  have  seen  George  Orcutt's  picture  in  the 
papers  and  noted  the  resemblance  to  the  other  man, 
and  when  George  Orcutt  was  declared  insane,  then 


32  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

they  must  know  that  here,  in  Orcutt's  home,  was 
the  man  they  sought  and  no  other. 

Four  weeks.  A  man  with  friends  could  not  be 
lost  for  four  weeks  and  no  search  made  for  him. 
And  this  man  had  been  well-groomed  and  was  a 
man  of  breeding.  The  doctors  had  said  that  his 
insanity  was  caused  by  a  shock.  He  had  lost  some 
one  that  he  loved — the  some  one  that  he  called 
"dear."  Gail's  lips  quivered  with  tenderness. 
Alone — with  no  one  who  cared  for  him !  Perhaps 
the  abused  charge  of  an  attendant  who  was  profiting 
by  his  absence !  If  this  sort  of  thing  should  ever 
happen  to  Vance! 

Vance!  She  was  back  again  to  the  starting  point 
of  her  interest.  An  insane  father — this  was  not  a 
good  social  heritage,  no!  But  viewed  as  an  in- 
fluence in  the  developing  years  of  Vance's  life  it 
was  an  infinitely  better  heritage  than  the  other.  All 
of  George  Orcutt's  sins  could  be  gracefully  ac- 
counted for  under  the  guise  of  insanity.  Here  was 
a  father  neither  to  be  ashamed  of  nor  to  follow  as 
an  alluring  example  of  profligacy.  The  latter  had 
always  been  her  fear,  an  icy  dread  in  her  heart 
that  Vance  would  seek  to  emulate  his  father's  sod- 
den life  under  the  youthful  impression  that  it  was 
an  expression  of  manliness  to  live  riotously.  And 
it  was  not  an  idle  fear. 

From  infancy  Vance  had  adored  his  father,  and 
neglect  by  his  idol  had  never  decreased  his  affec- 
tion. By  his  own  solicitation  the  boy  went  now 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  33 

twice  a  week  to  see  the  man  he  believed  to  be  his 
father.  Either  Bryan  took  him  in  the  automobile 
or  he  was  driven  by  Gregory,  the  groom,  behind 
a  pair  of  spirited  horses — the  pride  of  the  true 
George  Orcutt  and  the  delight  of  his  son.  It  did 
not  seem  strange  to  Vance  that  his  mother  did  not 
go  with  him.  He  had  known  only  a  divided  house- 
hold. Yet  within  the  childish  breast  was  always  a 
pathetic  longing  for  a  united  papa  and  mama.  He 
had  never  understood  why  his  parents  were  unlike 
other  papas  and  mamas  in  their  attitude  toward 
each  other.  He  had  early  ceased  asking,  for  his 
mama's  eyes  always  darkened  with  misery  and  his 
papa  laughed  loudly  in  a  way  he  did  not  like. 

He  brought  no  messages  now  from  the  sanato- 
rium. He  went  and  came  silently.  There  were 
things  that  he  wanted  to  tell  his  mama,  but  he  was 
afraid  to  mention  his  father's  name  for  fear  of 
bringing  on  a  wild  sobbing  and  frantic  walking  of 
the  room. 

But  Gail,  looking  now  out  over  the  Hudson,  was 
calm.  She  should  seek  no  more  to  learn  the  identity 
of  the  stranger.  He  had  been  given  into  her  hands. 
No  one  wanted  him  but  herself.  Four  weeks !  why 
should  not  this  stretch  to  four  years? — to  four 
times  four?  and  on  and  on?  The  four  weeks  had 
been  horrible  in  their  suspense  and  trepidations. 
But  these  four  weeks  were  now  behind  her.  And 
she  was  young — and  life  beckoned  her. 

Standing  there  by  the  window,  her  favorite  spot, 


34  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

her  eyes  upon  the  blue  river,  the  quickened  blood  of 
hope  began  to  thread  her  veins.  Then  a  warm  glow 
suffused  her.  It  was  happiness — nothing  less.  She 
laughed  softly,  then  laughed  again  at  the  strange- 
ness of  her  own  voice.  This  behind  her — the  night- 
mare terror !  It  was  but  a  dream  now,  a  scorching, 
rankling  dream  that  had  seared  and  creviced  into 
her  memory;  but,  even  so — a  dream,  to  be  viewed 
retrospectively.  She  had  saved  her  son's  name  from 
the  brand  of  ignominious  murder.  George  Orcutt 
was  a  free  man.  The  demented  stranger  was  lux- 
uriously cared  for  and  as  happy  as  a  man  in  his 
condition  could  be  anywhere.  And  she  and  Vance 
were  alone  together.  She  laughed  again,  an  almost 
gay  little  laugh. 

Afterwards,  she  knew  that  her  pagan  joy  was 
mostly  relief  in  finding  herself  free  from  the  man 
she  had  married.  Though  stoically  accepted,  she 
had  never  grown  indifferent  to  his  liaisons.  Her 
pride  rebelled  against  his  open  neglect.  And  she 
was  ashamed  of  him  before  her  friends,  the  ser- 
vants, the  passers-by  in  the  street  who  turned  to 
stare  at  his  bloated  face  with  its  tale  of  debauchery. 

Now  he  was  gone  for  good  and  all.  No  matter 
how  he  had  gone,  nor  why  he  went,  nor  what  he 
had  done;  he  was  gone — gone!  The  breezes  seemed 
to  sing  it  to  her,  the  leaves  of  the  trees,  the  chirp 
of  the  sparrows.  "Gone — Gone!"  And  she  was 
free! 

She  began  to  plan  for  the  future.     She  would 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  35 

close  the  Riverside  Drive  house  with  its  memories 
of  suffering  and  live  at  their  summer  home  at 
Mamaroneck,  except  for  a  few  months  in  the 
winter;  then  she  would  stay  at  a  hotel.  And  she 
would  travel — in  her  own  country  and  the  Orient. 
She  would  keep  away  from  Europe;  she  knew  it 
well  already;  and  she  would  take  no  chance  of  run- 
ning into  "George  Ormond."  It  was  by  this  name 
that  her  husband  was  now  known. 

Ah!  there  were  so  many  things  that  she  would 
do  now,  which  she  had  not  had  the  heart  to  do  be- 
fore. And  she  would  spare  no  expense  to  give 
whatever  comfort  and  happiness  she  could  to  the 
crazy  stranger  who  had  helped  her  to  her  freedom. 
He  should  be  her  tenderest  charge  always. 

More,  she  felt  charitable  to  the  world  at  large. 
She  sent  checks  to  numerous  Homes  and  Societies 
that  had  long  vainly  solicited  Mrs.  Orcutt's  patron- 
age. She  smiled  whimsically  to  think  that  not  suf- 
fering but  relief  from  suffering  had  quickened  her 
sympathies.  She  did  not  know  that  she  was  uncon- 
sciously trying  to  propitiate  the  gods — trying  to 
bribe  fate  to  leave  her  and  her  child  alone  now 
that  they  were  comparatively  happy. 


TT  was  May. 

•*•  Gail  sat  in  the  sun-parlor  overlooking  the  Hud- 
son. The  windows  were  open  and  a  warm  breeze 
swept  through  it.  She  drew  her  breath  in  deeply, 
responsive  to  the  radiance  of  the  day,  the  sunny, 
blue-skyed,  spring-perfumed  day.  Three  months! 
— and  all  was  well. 

The  Mamaroneck  house,  now  undergoing 
changes  in  construction  and  furnishings,  would  be 
completed  in  another  month.  Soon  she  would  be 
by  the  Sound,  in  a  house  that  held  no  memories  of 
her  husband;  for  it  was  her  own  castle,  and  one 
that  Orcutt,  by  mutual  arrangement,  had  never  vis- 
ited. And  Kate  Lorme,  the  friend  she  loved  best 
in  the  whole  world,  would  be  with  her,  the  motherly 
woman  who  had  known  and  been  devoted  to  her 
since  babyhood,  the  one  person  she  could  trust — 
not  to  tell  her  secret  to,  but  to  reveal  her  emotions 
before. 

A  home  free  from  memories,  her  boy,  her  friend, 
and  the  blue  water! 

"Mama!" 

36 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  37 

The  mother  turned  quickly,  all  tenderness  and 
love. 

"Did  you  have  a  nice  ride?"  she  asked,  and  kissed 
the  upheld  face. 

The  boy  rested  a  hand  on  the  arm  of  her  chair. 

"Yes,"  came  quietly.  Then — "How  old  will  I 
need  to  be  before  I  can  have  a  horse?"  he  asked. 
"A  pony's  nice,  but  a  horse  stands  up  so  much 
higher.  I  like  papa's  saddle  horse;  he  holds  his 
head  'way  up  and  moves  it  as  though  he's  going 
to  rear  and  tear  things  to  pieces,  but  he  doesn't. 
Ponies  aren't  very  frisky." 

"Frisky  enough  for  a  boy  of  six,  dear."  She 
smiled,  and  kissed  him  again.  "Surely,  you're  not 
tired  of  Cinders.  You  were  so  joyful  over  him  but 
a  year  ago." 

"No;  I'm  not  tired  of  him;  he's  awfully  cute." 
He  laughed  heartily.  "He  kicked  out  his  legs  to- 
day all  of  a  sudden  and  jolted  my  cap  off.  I  wish 
he'd  kick  oftener.  It  was  sport  holding  on." 

"And  you  fed  the  squirrels  and  pigeons?" 

"Yes."  His  eyes  sparkled.  "There  was  an- 
other boy  tried  to  get  my  pigeons  away  from  me; 
he  kept  throwing  bread  at  his  feet  and  on  his 
shoulders  and  clucked  for  'em  to  come  to  him." 

"And  they  stayed  around  you?" 

"Most  of  'em.  And  those  that  went  to  him  just 
snatched  the  bread  and  flew  back  to  me  again. 
They  didn't  know  him,  you  see;  then  he  was  noisy 


3 8  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

and  waved  his  arms  too  much.  You  have  to  be 
ju — ust  as  quiet  and  move  as  slo — ow " 

The  boy  leaned  a  little  against  her  knee  and 
looked  at  her  out  of  eyes  whose  lids  were  now  partly 
closed.  His  mother  waited  patiently,  knowing  that 
this  attitude  was  the  preliminary  of  a  question  that 
he  was  doubtful  about  voicing. 

There  was  a  strong  resemblance  between  mother 
and  son.  The  features  of  both  were  finely  chis- 
eled, giving  the  immediate  effect  of  distinction. 
Strength  of  will  and  mind  was  revealed,  not  by  un- 
due prominence  of  jaw  or  brow  but  by  a  unity  of 
forceful  lines  so  masterfully  distributed  that  instead 
of  detracting  from,  they  were  in  themselves  largely 
responsible  for  the  famed  beauty  of  Mrs.  George 
Orcutt  and  her  son.  The  boy's  eyes  were  a  lighter 
gray  than  the  woman's,  but  they  had  the  same  heavy 
black  fringe  encircling  them,  doubling  in  effect  their 
real  size.  His  brown  hair  still  had  a  childish  gold- 
en tint  seemingly  far  removed  from  the  bronze  of 
the  mother's.  But  her  hair  had  been  as  gold-tinted 
as  his  when  she  was  a  child.  In  appearance  the 
boy  had  partaken  wholly  of  the  mother;  even  the 
slow  smile,  that  came  so  rarely,  was  a  duplicate  of 
hers.  Yet  there  was  an  immeasurable  difference  in 
the  very  likeness  between  them,  a  difference  due  to 
sex;  even  at  six  years,  scarcely  beyond  babyhood, 
the  boy's  features  were  of  a  more  virile  cast  than 
the  adult  woman's,  of  a  bold  design  that  bespoke 
masculinity.  The  mother  was  called  "beautiful," 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  39 

the  son  "handsome,"  a  subtle  distinction  usually 
made  unconsciously.  But  to  Gail  these  separate 
designations  for  features  termed  "exactly  alike" 
were  pregnant  with  meaning.  He  was  a  man-child, 
made  in  the  mold  of  his  father,  destined  to  lead  a 
man's  life,  to  fulfil  a  man's  destiny. 

This  was  her  somber  thought  as  she  watched  him. 
He  was  longer  than  usual  in  bringing  himself  to 
the  point  of  actual  questioning.  He  began  tenta- 
tively. 

"Gregory  likes  to  watch  me  feed  the  pigeons — 
So  do  the  nurse-maids — there  are  always  nurse- 
maids and  babies  there.  .  .  .  Gregory  talks  to  'em, 
the  maids, — a  groom  and  maid  don't  have  to  be  in- 
troduced, you  see,  they  just  talk  and  tell  each  other 
their  names.  Mostly  they  talk  'bout  themselves 
and  laugh,  kind  of  silly,  I  think.  To-day — they 
talked  about — you  know " 

His  eyes  opened  to  their  fullness,  held  hers  with 
the  authority  of  a  judge.  His  mother  shivered. 
Would  he  never  cease  talking  about  it?  But  she 
explained  as  she  had  so  many  times  before. 

"Yes — but  Papa  did  that  when  he  was  out  of  his 
mind,  dear.  Papa  didn't  know  what  he  was  doing, 
so  it  wasn't  wrong,  only  sad,  very  sad." 

"But  you  said  a  man " 

"Yes;  Mr.  Lucas  Emmet,  one  of  his  friends — 
so  he  didn't  mean  to  kill  him,  you  see,  dear." 

"You — are  sure,  sure  it  wasn't  a — lady  he  killed? 
She — one  of  the  maids  said  that  when  I  was  grown 


40  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

I'd  be  a — a  lady-killer  like  my  father — a  lady- 
killer!" 

The  boy  waited  breathlessly.  His  voice  came 
again,  in  a  whisper. 

"Will  I — kill  somebody  when  I  grow  up?  I 
want  to  be  like  Papa  and  ride  a  horse  and  drive  a 
tallyho — but  I  don't  want  to  kill  anybody.  Was 
it  a — lady? — and  will  I " 

"Hush!" 

"Oh!"  cried  the  child,  frightened  before  the 
pallid  Mama  that  had  replaced  the  joyous  one. 

"A  lady-killer  is  merely  a  term  for  a  man  that 
the  ladies  all  admire,"  explained  the  mother  shak- 
ily. "It  is  not  a  nice  expression." 

The  child's  worried  expression  lifted.  He  nodded 
his  head  in  understanding.  His  governess  had  ex- 
plained the  use  of  hyperbole — he  being  prone,  as 
children  are,  to  take  all  statements  too  literally — 
and  she  had  illustrated  her  lesson  by  examples  from 
the  servants'  use  of  the  phrases  "tickled  to  death," 
"knocked  senseless,"  "up  in  the  air,"  "dead  gone" 
and  like  exaggerations. 

"I'm  glad  Papa  didn't  kill  a  lady,"  he  said  simply. 
"Even  if  he  wasn't  right  in  his  head  it  would  have 
seemed  cowardly  to  hurt  a  lady.  Gregory  says  a 
man  is  made  strong  on  purpose  to  support  a  lady — 
he  told  one  of  the  maids  that.  He  says  a  lady 
should  lean  on  a  man,  and  that  he  should  use  his 
arm  for  her  service.  The  maid,  her  name's  Hilda, 
is  real  pretty.  Her  hands  are  kind  of  red,  but  she 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  41 

has  a  cute  little  foot — Gregory  told  her  it  was  as 
little  as  yours."  He  looked  down  at  his  mother's, 
contemplatively.  "I  don't  think  it  is,  though." 

A  new  dread  leapt  to  Gail  Orcutt's  eyes. 

"How  would  you  like  Miss  Lauder  to  ride  with 
you?"  she  cried. 

"Miss  Lauder?"  Vance's  tone  was  scornful.  "I 
don't  want  a  woman  taking  care  of  me  when  I  go 
out.  She's  all  right  to  teach  me  lessons  and  do 
things  for  me  in  the  house.  Babies  and  girls  have 
women  tagging  them  round.  I  like  Gregory — he 
tells  me  'bout  the  big  hunts  he  used  to  ride  in  in 
Scotland  and  the  packs  of  hounds  they  had,  and  how 
the  deer  and  boars  act  when  they're  surrounded. 
He's  shot  quail,  too,  and  knows  'bout  horse  races. 
I  like  to  talk  'bout  the  things  men  do.  Women  are 
all  right  for  girls,  but  I'm  not  a  girl." 

"No,"  said  his  mother  slowly,  to  herself  rather 
than  to  him.  "You're  a  man-child." 

Vance's  arms  went  around  her  neck. 

"Don't  cry,  Mama.  I'll  be  your  boy,  always. 
Aunt  Kate  Lorme  always  calls  Uncle  Dick  her 
'boy,'  and  he's  lots  older'n  Papa.  It  sounds  silly 
to  hear  a  big  man  called  a  'boy,'  but  I'll  let  you  do 
it.  Gregory  says  it  makes  a  fellow  manly  to  stand 
for  women's  weaknesses.  It's  a  weakness  for  a 
woman  to  want  a  man  to  be  a  boy  always,  isn't  it?" 
he  queried  anxiously.  "I  didn't  like  to  ask  Gregory 
just  what  a  'weakness'  is.  You  see  he  was  talking 


42 

to  Hilda,  not  me.  He's  going  to  marry  Hilda,  I 
guess.  Anyhow,  he  asked  her  and  she  said  'yes.' ' 

"You  listened!" 

"Oh,  no!  I  just  heard.  They  always  talk  be- 
fore me.  Gregory  said  he  loved  Hilda  and  he  didn't 
care  if  everybody  in  the  Park  knew  it.  She  asked 
him  to  get  her  a  place  here  as  housemaid  after 
they're  married.  And  he  said  he  would  if  he  could. 
Hilda's  a  nice  girl,  /  think." 

The  woman  smiled  tenderly,  and  drew  the  boy 
within  her  arms. 

"We  shall  have  to  have  Hilda,  I  see." 

Vance's  laugh  rang  out  merrily.  But  it  was  be- 
cause the  smiles  had  come  to  his  Mama's  face 
again. 


VI 


'ITT'HAT  so  rare  as  a  day  in  June?  Ah!  a  day 
in  September  at  Mamaroneck,  with  a 
myriad  sun  diamonds  on  the  water,  and  white  yachts 
that  float  like  great  birds  on  the  waves,"  cried  Gail, 
stretching  her  arms  toward  the  sea.  "I'm  happy! 
happy!  I'm  not  sure  that  my  delirium  of  joy  is 
not  plain  hysterics,  but — I  don't  care  a  jot." 

"That's  good,  Gail." 

It  was  Mr.  Lorme  who  spoke.  He  was  a  pink 
and  silvery  bland-faced  man  of  fifty-five,  looking 
always  as  freshly  scrubbed  and  clear-eyed  as  an  ad- 
vertisement baby.  He  sat  now  in  a  deep  willow 
rocker  on  the  veranda,  immaculate  in  white  flannels, 
a  pink  carnation  in  his  hand.  He  waved  its  long 
stem,  jubilantly. 

"Hurrah!  It's  good  to  hear  you  say  you  don't 
care,  Gail.  You've  always  cared  so  blasted  much." 

"Which  was  a  great  mistake,  I  now  see,"  laughed 
Gail,  pirouetting  giddily.  "I'm  a  dryad.  My  role 
is  to  gambol  and  sing.  Since  time  began  there  has 
never  been  a  more  glorious  summer  than  this!" 

"Right!" 

43 


44  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

The  voice  was  hearty,  as  was  everything  about 
Kate  Lorme.  She  was  as  pink  and  cherubic  as  her 
husband.  Her  eyes,  like  blue  larkspur,  looked 
fondly  at  the  laughing  "dryad."  In  a  moment  Gail's 
arms  were  around  her. 

"Stay  here  with  me  during  October,  Kate,  you 
and  Dick.  We  will  motor  every  day — feast  our- 
selves to  bursting  with  autumn's  gorgeous  golds  and 
reds.  I  had  forgotten  that  the  world  is  so  beauti- 
ful. You  will  stay — you  will!" 

"Sure,  Gail  girl,"  assented  Mrs.  Lorme. 

Gail  kissed  each  round,  rosy  cheek. 

"You  blessed  old  darling!"  she  crooned.  Then, 
lightly  as  the  dryad  she  claimed  to  be,  she  ran  from 
the  porch  to  the  velvety  cushioned  lawn  down  to 
the  Sound,  trilling  an  air  from  A'ida. 

Mrs.  Lorme  reached  out  a  hand  and  touched  her 
husband's.  There  was  a  film  of  moisture  in  her 
eyes. 

"I  never  realized  till  this  summer  just  what  Gail 
had  suffered.  I'd  surely  have  killed  George  if  I'd 
known  she  would  be  so  like  her  old  self  without 
him." 

Mr.  Lorme  chuckled. 

"If  George  had  only  known  the  danger  he  was 
in  from  you,  Kate,  he  would  Ve  died  from  sheer 
fright."  ' 

Mrs.  Lorme  laughed,  too,  a  gurgling  fat  laugh. 
Her  eyes  still  followed  the  dancing  figure. 

"Why,  bless  me,  Dick,  she's  our  Gail  Revelling 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  45 

again,  as  light-hearted  and  girlish  as  she  was  before 
she  met  that  scoundrel  Orcutt.  She's  been  a  trag- 
edy queen  for  so  long  I  had  almost  forgotten  what 
a  blithesome  lass  she  was.  This  has  been  a  won- 
derful summer.  But — will  it  last?  I  wonder." 

"Eh?" 

"Dick,  I  wonder  if  it  hasn't  been  too  wonderful? 
Doesn't  there  seem  something  like — like  defiance 
in  her  happiness?  A  little  too  much  protesting,  too 
much — delirium  in  it?" 

Mr.  Lorme  smiled,  airily. 

"A  colt  that's  been  shut  up  has  to  prance  and 
kick  up  its  heels  a  little,  old  girl.  Gail's  the  love- 
liest thing  under  the  sun,  and  the  most  bewitching. 
It's  been  a  deuced  fine  summer — almost  as  good  's 
having  children  of  our  own  to  have  her  and  Vance 
to  dote  on.  There's  a  chap !  Vance  is  like  old 
Frank  Orcutt,  George's  father — as  honest  as  the 
day.  He  inherits  Gail's  beauty,  and  nothing  from 
George  that  I  can  see.  He'll  redeem  the  Orcutt 
name,  give  it  the  dignity  that  Frank  Orcutt  did." 

"I  wonder  how  George  is?"  mused  Mrs.  Lorme. 
"Vance  hasn't  been  to  see  him  since  they  came  to 
Mamaroneck,  and  it's  not  more  than  twenty  miles 
from  here." 

"Child  like,  he's  lost  his  interest " 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Lorme  decidedly.  "It's  because 
he's  sensed  that  Gail  doesn't  want  him  to  go.  It's 
pathetic  the  way  the  little  fellow  enjoys  seeing  her 
happy.  But  he  hasn't  forgotten  his  father.  It's 


46  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

curious  how  he  adores  that  wastrel.  I  believe  he 
would  risk  even  making  Gail  unhappy  if  George 
knew  him  and  took  any  pleasure  in  his  company." 
She  leaned  forward,  squinted  up  her  eyes  so  as  to 
see  better.  "Gail  must  have  intercepted  the  letter 
carrier — isn't  that  a  letter  in  her  hand?  And  what's 
happened?"  she  cried.  "Look  at  her,  Dick!" 

Mr.  Lorme  glanced  carelessly  across  the  lawn  at 
the  figure  moving  slowly  toward  them,  a  drooping, 
listless  figure,  unlike  the  dryad  that  had  skimmed 
over  the  grass  a  few  minutes  before.  His  mind 
was  on  the  letter  carrier.  He  went  hurriedly  into 
the  house  to  get  a  letter  he  wanted  to  mail.  His 
wife  gazed  anxiously  ahead,  fearful;  yet  she  knew 
not  of  what.  She  rose  and  went  down  the  path  to 
meet  her,  her  arms  held  out  protectingly. 

"What  is  it,  Gail?     What  has  happened?" 

Gail  held  out  a  letter. 

"Read,"  she  moaned,  and  pushed  Mrs.  Lorme 
to  a  bench,  sliding  beside  her  to  the  ground,  her 
head  burying  itself  against  the  woman's  knees. 

The  letter  was  from  Morris  Underwood,  the 
alienist  in  whose  charge  Orcutt  had  been  placed. 
It  read: 

"DEAR  MRS.  ORCUTT: 

"For  the  past  three  months  Mr.  Orcutt  has  been 
steadily  improving.  His  condition  is  now  so  satis- 
factory that  I  have  notified  the  District  Attorney 
that  there  is  no  occasion  for  him  to  remain  in  a 
sanatorium.  Acting  upon  this  notification,  Drs.  Up- 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  47 

man  and  Scott,  appointed  by  the  law,  have  this 
week  examined  Mr.  Orcutt,  and  they  concur  in  my 
opinion.  The  District  Attorney  has  consented  to 
his  discharge.  You  should  shortly  receive  a  com- 
munication from  him  and  legal  instructions  as  to 
the  definite  steps  to  take  for  Mr.  Orcutt's  removal 
from  my  custody,  if  such  have  not  already  preceded 
this  letter.  Mr.  Orcutt  will  still  be  under  the  es- 
pionage of  the  State,  but  only  perfunctorily.  I  did 
not  consult  you  about  his  removal,  feeling  that  it 
would  be  kinder  not  to  arouse  hopes  till  I  had 
something  definite  to  tell  you. 

"Though  Mr.  Orcutt  is  virtually  a  well  man,  he 
is  still  unable  to  remember  about  himself  and  his 
personal  affairs.  Old  associations  may  (I  only 
say  may)  bring  him  to  full  consciousness  of  his  past. 
If  this  does  not  follow,  he  will  have  to  learn  anew 
about  his  family  and  associates.  In  either  case  early 
renewal  of  his  family  life  is  advised. 

"It  would  be  well  for  you  and  your  little  son 
to  see  him  here  once  before  his  return  home.  He 
remembers  having  seen  Vance  here;  of  you  he  has 
no  recollection.  It  seems  to  impress  him  as  very 
odd,  and  amusingly  so,  that  he  should  have  a  wife 
and  child.  It  will  be  easier  for  him  to  adjust  him- 
self to  the  new  environment  (his  home  will  now 
be  new  to  him)  if  he  first  loses  any  sense  of  strange- 
ness he  may  have  in  your  society. 

"Please  come  prepared  to  find  a  husband  who 
does  not  know  you  and  is  somewhat  frightened 
over  the  prospect  of  meeting  you. 

"Kindly  notify  me  upon  receipt  of  this  as  to  the 
day  and  hour  of  your  visit. 

"Yours  respectfully, 

"MORRIS  UNDERWOOD." 


48  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

Mrs.  Lorme  let  the  letter  weakly  flutter  to  the 
floor.  She  strove  in  vain  for  words  to  give  com- 
fort to  the  woman  crouching  at  her  knees.  But 
what  was  there  to  say  or  do  in  this  awful  dilemma 
— awful  even  to  her  restricted  knowledge  of  it. 

"Blast  George!"  she  uttered  feebly.  "Blast  the 
whelp !"  She  stroked  the  soft  hair.  "Gail,  my 
dear  girl.  Oh,  if  there  was  only  something  I  could 
do  to  rid  you  of  him." 

Gail's  face  rose  slowly,  more  stricken  with  terror 
than  her  friend  had  yet  seen  it.  She  stumbled  to  her 
feet. 

"You  can't  help  me,  Kate.  .  .  .  No  one  can 
help!  No  one  can  help  me!" 


VII 


/^EORGE  ORCUTTS  wife  locked  herself  in 
^-*  her  room  and  sat  down  alone  to  face  her  prob- 
lem. Even  in  the  anxieties  and  fears  of  the  first 
weeks  after  the  murder  she  had  not  in  her  wildest 
moments  conjectured  anything  so  terrible  as  the 
reality  confronting  her.  She  had  feared  that  the 
man  she  had  substituted  for  her  husband  would  sud- 
denly come  into  his  reason  and  declare  who  he  was, 
and  that  herself  and  her  husband  would  be  appre- 
hended, herself  as  an  accessory  after  the  crime; 
she  had  feared  that  some  one  would  come  forth 
and  claim  the  man  and  arraign  her  on  a  charge  of 
abduction;  she  had  feared  that  Orcutt  would  be 
recognized  or  do  something  inadvertently  to  betray 
himself.  She  had  pictured  herself  in  the  criminal 
docket,  had  shivered  and  almost  shrieked  aloud 
under  the  supposititious  belief  that  she  was  being 
carried  to  prison.  There  had  been  nothing  that  she 
had  not  conjectured  and  harrowed  her  nerves  over 
save  the  awful  fact  now  staring  at  her  from  Doc- 
tor Underwood's  letter. 

She  must  take  a  strange  man  into  her  home  as 

49 


50  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

her  husband !  as  Vance's  father !  That,  or  denounce 
the  real  husband  and  father.  The  two  roads  spread 
baldly  before  her.  There  were  no  side  paths  through 
which  she  could  slip  secretly  and  evade  both  high- 
ways. None.  The  eyes  of  the  law  would  be  upon 
her;  and  of  the  press  and  the  public. 

She  looked  out  over  the  Sound,  blue  with  the  re- 
flected blueness  of  a  cloudless  sky,  looked  at  the 
rookery  where  she  had  been  standing  a  short  half- 
hour  before  when  the  letter  carrier  handed  her  an 
innocent-looking  white  missive.  .  .  .  She  had  been 
singing — singing  and  happy  and  unafraid  of  the 
future.  .  .  .  Fate,  in  her  cruelly  ironic  way,  had 
allowed  her  to  catch  breath  and  to  hope — ah !  even 
to  believe  that  she  had  successfully  defied  her! 

She  had  thought  the  game  ended — and  it  had 
only  begun ! 

And  somehow  she  must  win.  To  lay  down  her 
hand  now  was  to  lose  no  less  fully  than  she  should 
lose  at  any  time.  She  had  started  in  with  open  eyes 
to  play  a  dangerous  game.  Her  hand  was  cruelly 
weak  and  the  cards  against  her  cruelly  strong.  But 
there  was  still  a  fighting  chance.  This  man  was 
alone  in  the  world.  He  was  a  gentleman,  and 
kindly.  Even  his  halting  remarks  had  been  voiced 
in  tones  that  held  a  caressing  cadence.  He  could 
not  but  respond  to  Vance's  winsome  nature.  Once 
let  him  learn  to  love  the  child  and  he  might  volun- 
tarily protect  him.  Should  he  regain  memory  of  his 
past  he  could  go  away  and  resume  his  own  name. 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  51 

Some  way  could  surely  be  found  for  him  to  pre- 
serve his  own  identity,  and  that  of  George  Orcutt 
— at  intervals  sufficiently  often  to  satisfy  the  law. 

"Insight — Wit — Nerve!"  These  were  the  three 
magic  possessions  that  must  now  be  hers.  Must  be ! 
She  was  fighting  for  her  boy's  future.  Fighting — 
Yes,  it  was  fighting  now.  Her  eyes  blazed  hotly. 
Men  had  fought  despicably  for  a  throne,  men  great 
in  the  annals  of  history.  She  would  fight — fairly, 
if  she  could,  but  fight  somehow — to  save  her  boy 
from  knowing  himself  the  son  of  a  murderer. 

A  grim  defiance  replaced  the  girlish  curves  of 
cheeks  and  lips.  Shivering,  as  though  she  were 
touching  actual  things,  she  ran  over  her  weapons  of 
defense — her  courage,  her  quickness  of  wit,  her  in- 
sight into  the  motives  of  others,  the  unreckonable 
strength  of  feminine  beauty  and  charm. 

She  rose  from  her  silent  conference — a  woman 
inexpressibly  weary,  in  whom  joy  and  careless  laugh- 
ter seemed  never  to  have  been.  The  radiant, 
pirouetting  girl  of  an  hour  before  was  gone  as  com- 
pletely as  though  she  had  physically  died. 

She  wrote  briefly  to  Doctor  Underwood  that  she 
would  arrive  at  the  sanatorium  the  next  morning  at 
eleven  o'clock.  She  then  called  the  housekeeper  and 
gave  orders  for  her  to  open  the  town  house  on  the 
same  day,  and  to  close  the  Mamaroneck  house  as 
soon  as  could  be  done  thereafter.  To  Mrs.  Lorme 
she  explained  the  reason  for  this. 

"I  want  no  tragic  memories  connected  with  this 


52  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

place,"  she  said  unsteadily.  "I  have  been  truly 
happy  here  this  past  summer — yes  happy!  though  I 
am  still  in  wonder  over  it.  And  I  have  never  been 
as  unhappy  here  as  in  town.  George  never  came 
here." 

"Not  he!"  exclaimed  her  friend.  "He  wanted 
Saratoga,  when  there  was  horse-racing,  or  Narra- 
gansett  or  Atlantic  City." 

Gail  did  not  heed  her  outbreak. 

"Kate,"  she  said  softly,  "Vance  is  wild  with  joy 
because  his — father  is  coming  home." 

"And  that  pleases  you!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Lorme 
in  amazement.  "Upon  my  word!  A  few  months 
ago  you  were  frantic  because  the  child  wanted  to 

visit  George Forgive  me,  Gail,  I  didn't  mean 

to  question  your  actions.  I  was  so  surprised  I  spoke 
without  thinking." 

"No  matter,  Kate.  I  shall  probably  surprise  you 
more  and  more.  I  amaze  myself.  It  is  a  curious 
sensation  to  find  myself  doing  things  seemingly  out- 
side my  own  volition.  Wait!" — intercepting  her 
friend's  disturbed  utterance.  "It  is  only  seemingly 
involitional.  The  amazement  comes  from  finding 
that  I  am  a  different  woman  than  I  had  supposed. 
I  do  things  that  I  can't  quite  understand  how  I — 
dare.  Yet — I  must.  I  have  no  power  not  to  do 
them.  I  am  afraid,  horribly  afraid — yet  I  go  on — 
I  can  only  tick-tock,  tick-tock  to  the  inevitable  end 
— whether  black  midnight  or  sunlit  noonday.  Do 
you  remember  Charlie  Abbot's  telling  us  how  he 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  53 

was  always  sure  he  was  going  to  turn  and  run  when 
the  enemy  opened  fire,  but  that  he  couldn't  do  any- 
thing but  advance  when  the  time  really  came.  Can't 
you  hear  him  say,  'It  was  just  as  though  there  was 
some  other  fellow  inside  my  hide  running  into  the 
firing-line  and  I  a-looking  on  dumb  with  surprise'? 
She  shivered  visibly.  "It  is  madness,  stark,  raving 
madness,  yet — I  shall  bring  him  home!" 

uUm-m,"  murmured  Kate  Lorme.  "But  what 
else  could  you  do  now  that  the  doctors  have  ordered 
his  removal?  George  is  a  wastrel,  but  it's  his  house, 
and  you're  his  wife  and  Vance  is  his  child."  She 
stopped  before  Gail's  start  and  deathly  pallor. 
"La  !  la !  I  seem  bent  to  say  the  wrong  thing.  You've 
sort  of  flustered  me  with  your  pleasure  in  Vance's 
desire  to  see  his  father." 

"I  was  clutching  at  straws.  That  Vance  should 
be  happy,  if  only  for  a  little  while,  seemed  some- 
thing to  offset  my  misery." 

"But  why  be  miserable,  dear?  Why  should  you 
not  divorce  George  and  have  your  liberty?  Even 
though  you  have  condoned  his  past  offences  he  will 
soon  give  you  fresh  grounds.  Dick  and  I  have  been 
talking  it  over  and  we  feel  that  you  should  be  free 
of  the  scoundrel  once  and  for  all.  You  owe  it  to 
yourself.  You  are  young,  with  love  and  happiness 
your  due." 

"It  is  too  late,"  came  drearily. 

"Too  late!  Why?  Your  father  believed  in 
keeping  everything  under  cover,  sores  and  all. 


54  THE    WOMAN'S    LAW 

Well,  I  don't.  And  now  that  your  domestic  af- 
fairs have  become  public  property  despite  you,  why 
not  air  them  a  little  more  and  be  free?  Gail,  you 
must!  Dick  and  I  look  upon  you  as  our  own  child, 
and  it  is  as  our  own  daughter  that  we  advise  this." 

"Only  it  is  Gail  Orcutt  that  you  advise,"  was 
the  low,  tired  answer.  "And  she  was  wound  up 
ages  ago  to  go  on  just  this  way.  She  wishes  with 
all  her  heart  that  she  had  divorced  George  Orcutt 
seven  years  ago;  she  wishes — yes!  that  he  was  pay- 
ing the  penalty  of  his  crime;  and  she  may  wish 
later  that  she  had  not  done  what — she — is  going — 
to  do  now — if  she  can." 

"Then  don't  do  it,  child,  whatever  it  is,"  pleaded 
the  elder  woman. 

Gail's  lips  parted  over  a  moan.  She  walked  back 
and  forth,  her  tired  brain  still  struggling  with  its 
burden  of  thought. 

"Good?  What  is  a  good  woman?  It  would  not 

be  good  to  sacrifice  my  baby.  Yet Oh!  I  am 

so  afraid  to  go  on And — somehow  that's  the 

reason  I  must.  I  gave  Vance  his  father.  I  now 
know  that  I  divined  then  that  George  was  not  a  fit 
husband.  But  /  wanted  him  for  my  own  pleasure. 
I  married  him.  Now  I  must  pay  the  best  that  I 
can — pay  him,  my  baby.  Before  everything  else  in 
the  world  I  owe  Vance  reparation.  To  hold  back 
in  fear  for  myself — when  I  may  save  him  from  ever 
knowing — even  the  chance  that  I  may  win  is  enough 
to  arm  me  with  courage  for  this  or — anything.  .  .  . 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  55 

"There  is  no  one  but  myself  and  Vance.  We  are 
alone.  We  must  stand  or  fall  by  ourselves.  There 
is  no  one  of  our  blood  to  help  us — or  to  be  hurt 
through  us.  A  child  should  have  his  chance — even 
could  he  know  now,  he  should  surely  want  that  a 
little  child  should  not  be  burdened  with  shame.  To 
think  himself  the  son  of  a  good  father !  oh  my  dear ! 
my  baby!  that  would  mean  more  to  you  than  any- 
thing else  in  the  world.  And  perhaps If  I 

am  courageous Iff  Ah  !  I  must  be.  I  will  be!" 

She  dropped  beside  her  friend  on  the  divan,  con- 
vulsed with  sobs,  a  racking  torrent  of  grief  and 
dread. 

Kate  Lorme  folded  her  in  her  arms. 

"Divorce  George,"  she  pleaded.     "Start  over." 

"The  moving  finger  has  passed  beyond  that  line, 
Kate,"  came  brokenly. 

"Then  what  do  you  intend  to  do?" 

The  gray  eyes,  deep  as  forest  pools  now,  gazed 
straight  ahead. 

"I  am  not  a  seer,  Kate.  I  am  simply  waiting  till 
— to-morrow." 


VIII 

TT\OCTOR  UNDERWOOD,  a  big  hulking  man 
-L^  with  little  black  eyes  that  squinted  behind 
thick  glasses,  and  a  broad  flat  face,  Chinese  in  its 
impassivity,  sat  opposite  Gail  in  his  private  office, 
talking. 

"Mr.  Orcutt's  is  a  curious  case,"  said  he.  "Not 
curious  because  of  his  recovering  his  sanity  and  fail- 
ing to  remember  who  he  is  and  particular  instances 
in  his  life — such  occurrences  are  common.  In  fact, 
the  vagaries  of  the  workings  of  the  mind  in  both 
sane  and  insane  make  no  case  actually  strange  to 
the  alienist.  It  is  another  aspect  of  your  husband's 
case  that  puzzles  me.  I  have  been  told,  and  authori- 
tatively, that  he  was  a  hard  drinker,  a  fast  liver, 
licentious,  given  over  entirely  to  material  pleas- 
ures." 

"Why  are  you  speaking  of  this?"  Gail  asked,  as 
Doctor  Underwood's  silence  seemed  to  demand  an 
answer.  Her  voice  was  not  wholly  steady,  despite 
her  heroic  efforts  at  calmness. 

"In  hopes  that  you  may  be  able  to  throw  some 
light  on  a  very  vexing  question.  Your  husband  is 

56 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  57 

either  the  most  maligned  man  of  his  time  or  else 
he  deliberately  chose  to  play  a  role.  I  cannot  con- 
ceive of  his  ever  being  anything  but  a  gentleman, 
a  cultured,  honorable  man  of  temperate  habits  and 
pure  thoughts." 

"Yet — he  killed  Lucas  Emmet  and — about  a — 
woman." 

"It  remains  a  question  who  killed  Lucas  Emmet," 
answered  the  physician  sharply.  "I  am  not  con- 
vinced that  my  patient  did  it." 

Her  eyes  met  his  scrutinizing  ones  unflinchingly. 

"The  George  Orcutt  I  knew  was — was  not — 
maligned." 

"Mrs.  Orcutt,  your  husband  to-day  is  as  differ- 
ent from  the  man  the  newspapers  described  as  white 
from  black.  You  will  find  this  out  for  yourself  in 
time.  But  now  I  ask  you  to  take  my  word  for  it, 
and  to  meet  him  in  kindly  spirit.  Let  him  see  that 
you  are  his  friend." 

"You  like  him!" 

"I  seldom  meet  with  a  man  as  interesting  and  as 
likable.  I  shall  miss  our  discussions  on  psychology 
and  biology  greatly." 

"Psychology — biology,"  she  muttered.  "Psy- 
chology ! — biology !" 

"Ah !  Then  you  did  not  know  of  his  interest  in 
these  subjects." 

"No,"  she  breathed,  her  voice  a  whimper  of  fear. 
"No." 

Her  face  sank  to  her  hand.     Was  it  any  use  to 


58  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

struggle  further?  Had  she  not  better  confess  the 
truth  now,  the  awful  truth?  George  Orcutt  with  an 
intimate  knowledge  of  the  sciences  was  too  unbe- 
lievable for  his  friends  to  accept.  And  could  she 
force  her  will  on  a  man  such  as  this? 

"Your  husband  has  evidently  kept  his  studious 
life  very  secret  indeed,"  continued  the  alienist.  "He 
has  hid  his  virtues  and  made  a  parade  of  his  physi- 
cal dissipations,  reversing  the  usual  order.  Um-m! 
Um-m!  His  grosser  self  though,  Mrs.  Orcutt,  is 
buried  very  deep  now,  and  will  be,  as  long  as  mem- 
ory of  his  past  is  lost,  which  loss  may  be  perma- 
nent. He  has  been  virtually  well  for  three  months 
and  yet  memory  of  himself  and  his  personal  ex- 
periences is  wholly  missing.  He  has  not  lost  the 
memory  of  written  language,  nor  of  the  subject  mat- 
ter of  books  he  has  read,  nor  of  the  arts  and  sciences 
he  has  studied,  but  he  knows  these  only  as  they 
pertain  to  themselves  and  not  at  all  in  association 
with  himself  and  the  part  they  have  played  in  his 
life. 

"He  hasn't  the  faintest  idea  of  how  or  why  or 
when  he  ever  acquired  his  knowledge.  He  is  like  a 
phonograph  into  which  records  have  been  read; 
yes,  veritably,  for  he  seems  to  have  as  little  actual 
connection  with  the  many  important  and  erudite 
facts  he  enunciates  as  a  machine.  I  do  not  mean 
by  this  that  he  talks  like  a  parrot,  no  indeed;  he  is 
interested,  enthusiastic,  returning  argument  for  ar- 
gument, his  brain  as  active  in  marshalling  his  sub- 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  59 

jects  and  correlating  his  details  as  mine  is.  It  is 
only  that  he,  like  the  phonograph,  seems  never  to 
have  been  part  and  parcel  of  the  things  about  which 
he  discourses  so  admirably.  He  does  not  remem- 
ber his  name  but  he  knows  the  history  of  the  de 
Medici  family;  he  has  no  recollection  of  himself 
as  a  boy  but  he  knows  about  the  boyhood  of  Lincoln 
and  Cromwell  and  the  Great  Corsican.  An  inter- 
esting case,  a  most  interesting  case." 

"But  now? — does  he  remember  about  the  things 
he  does  now?"  asked  Gail  faintly. 

"Yes;  he  is  perfectly  normal  as  regards  his  pres- 
ent experiences.  He  will  not  know  you  for  his  wife 
to-day  till  he  is  told,  but  when  you  come  again  he 
will  remember  as  fully  the  events  of  to-day  as  I. 
Ah! — when  have  you  arranged  for  him  to  return 
home?  He  insisted  that  I  should  leave  the  whole 
matter  to  you." 

"Monday,  I  think,"  she  responded  in  a  low  voice. 
"Our  town  house  is  just  now  being  opened  and 
could  scarcely  be  ready  for  occupancy  before  then. 
That— will  do?" 

"Yes,  or  later.  No  rush  is  necessary.  Now" — 
body  bent  forward,  face  lowered  to  a  line  with  hers 
— "have  you  anything  to  say  to  me?  Think  care- 
fully. Your  husband  is — your  husband,  Mrs.  Or- 
cutt.  The  law  is  with  him,  I  am  with  him,  in  de- 
siring this.  He  is  expecting  his  wife.  Do  you  think 
you  fully  understand?" 

Gail  sat  silent.    She  felt  her  courage  oozing  from 


60  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

out  her  pores,  leaving  her  sick  with  weakness.  She 
could  not  go  on.  She  had  not  calculated  aright. 
To  pit  her  woman's  feeble  strength  against  the 
law — against  the  penetrating  mind  of  this  alienist — 
against  him,  the  other,  who  believed  himself  her 
husband,  and  so  believing 

Morris  Underwood  watched  her  from  behind  his 
thick  glasses  with  their  black  frames.  To  her  fev- 
ered conception  he  had  the  look  of  an  ogre. 

A  deathly  nausea  assailed  her.  Doctor  Under- 
wood was  waiting  for  her  to  speak — and  she  could 
not! 

"Mama!" 

Face  pressed  against  the  window,  Vance  peered 
in  for  an  instant,  his  eyes  brimming  with  glee.  He 
was  accompanied  by  a  hospital  attendant  who  was 
conducting  him  to  his  father. 

Her  boy! 

The  mother's  body  became  rigid:  steel  in  en- 
durance. The  twentieth  century  and  civilization 
and  dependent  femininity! — all  were  blotted  out. 
She  was  primal,  a  female  defending  her  young,  sav- 
age and  fearless  as  a  lioness  in  the  jungle. 

She  rose  and  faced  the  alienist,  beneath  her  soft 
armor  the  strength  now  to  fight  a  multitude. 

Her  manner  was  haughty. 

"I  understand,  fully.  And  I  have  nothing  to  say 
to  you  but  this:  I  shall  not  promise  to  be  friends 
with  my  husband,  doctor.  It  is  his  home  and  he 
can  go  to  it  without  permission  from  me.  He  and 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  61 

I  will  live  our  lives  apart  as  we  have  before.  Will 
you  please  not  encourage  him  to  think  otherwise." 

"Ah !  that  is  your  attitude.   Do  you  think  it  fair?" 

She  flashed  a  keen  glance  at  the  man's  inscrutable 
face,  a  little  shiver  of  fear  playing  down  her  back 
at  the  curious  inflection  of  his  voice.  An  intense 
dislike  for  him  swept  her.  There  came  a  clammy 
feeling  that  he,  like  herself,  was  wearing  a  mask. 
It  was  borne  in  upon  her  that  here  was  an  enemy, 
and  one  to  be  feared.  But  she  answered  evenly: 

"That  matter,  I  think,  rests  between  me  and  my 
husband.  When  he  leaves  here  he  is  beyond  your 
jurisdiction,  is  he  not?" 

"Technically,"  he  retorted.  "But  inside  or  out- 
side my  walls  I  am  his  friend,  Mrs.  Orcutt." 

"But  not  necessarily  my  enemy,"  she  said  archly, 
favoring  him  with  a  brilliant  smile.  "Won't  you 
please  leave  the  matter  to  me — the  one  who  is  most 
vitally  concerned.  I  may  know  better  what  is  fair 
than  you.  I  am  a  woman  and  a  mother." 

"I  abdicate  in  favor  of  the  woman  and  mother," 
he  pronounced  gravely.  "Are  you  ready  to  see 
him?" 

"Yes,"  she  said  evenly.  "But  alone.  Will  you 
please  have  Vance  taken  to  the  car  before  I  go  in." 

She  stood  motionless,  her  hands  pressed  tightly 
together,  while  the  doctor  saw  that  her  order  was 
carried  into  effect.  "Come,"  he  then  said,  and  led 
her  through  the  hall  to  a  door  partly  open,  ushered 
her  in  and  closed  the  door  upon  her. 


IX 


A  T  the  sound  of  Gail  Orcutt's  step  the  man  stand- 
•^  ing  by  the  window  slowly  turned  and  faced 
her.  He  did  not  advance;  nor  did  she,  further, 
after  a  full  view  of  him.  She  stood  stock-still, 
breathless  with  a  new  amazement.  He  did  not  even 
look  like  George  Orcutt.  Save  for  the  Vandyke 
beard  and  the  full  brow  all  resemblance  was  gone. 
Here  were  not  George's  nerveless  mouth,  nor  his 
flaccid  cheeks  nor  vacuous  expression.  No;  the 
mouth  was  firm,  characterful,  the  eyes  clear  and 
strikingly  intelligent,  the  flesh  compact,  glowing  with 
the  health  of  pure  living.  And  he  held  himself 
with  soldier-like  erectness. 

"Gail!" 

He  flushed  as  he  pronounced  her  name,  his  eyes 
on  hers  in  somewhat  abashed  questioning. 

She  started  violently,  and  stepped  back,  stretched 
out  her  hands  to  push  him  away.  But  he  did  not 
attempt  to  approach  her. 

"You  are  afraid  of  me?"  he  asked.  "Why? — 
because  you  fear  I  am  insane  and  may  hurt  you?" 

"No,"  she  cried,  and  withdrew  a  step  further. 

62 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  63 

His  eyes  searched  her  features,  dwelt  on  them 
one  by  one,  swiftly  traversed  her  slender,  shapely 
body. 

"It  is  all  very  strange,"  said  he,  a  flicker  of  hu- 
mor about  his  lips.  "But  the  strangest  of  all  is  to 
find  myself  possessed  of  a  beautiful  wife — and  not 
to  be  able  to  recollect  anything  about  her.  To  have 
been  your  lover,  husband,  the  father  of  your  child 
— and  not  to  recollect  one  moment  of  it  all.  It  is 
inexplicable." 

His  eyes  were  deeply  admiring,  his  voice  vibrant 
with  tenderness.  Gail  felt  herself  shivering.  His 
admiration  had  been  the  thing  she  had  dreaded  most 
and  had  felt  would  be  the  most  difficult  to  combat. 

"What  is  it?"  he  persisted,  noting  her  alarm. 
"You  fear  me  for  some  reason." 

"Hasn't  Doctor  Underwood  —  told  —  you  — 
about " 

He  folded  his  arms. 

"I  have  been  told  that  I  killed  a  man,  my  friend, 
and  over  a — woman.  .  .  .  Did  I  ?  ....  Ah ! 
your  eyes  say  'yes.'  Well,  now  tell  me  what  you  did 
to  drive  me  from  you?" 

«I_what  /  did?" 

"Yes — you.  It  is  not  incompatible  with  my  judg- 
ment of  myself  that  I  should  have  killed  a  man.  I 
can  conceive  of  incentives  for  doing  that — yes,  and 
without  regret.  But  it  is  inconceivable  that  I  should 
have  been  faithless  to  you — and  because  of  some 
pitiable  creature.  Unless " 


64  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

"What?"  she  whispered,  almost  without  volition. 

"Unless  you  goaded  me  to  it  by  your  indifference 
to  my  love.  But  there  was  still  Vance.  No!  ask 
me  to  believe  anything  but  that  I  dishonored  you 
and  my  boy." 

She  felt  herself  reeling.  She  had  not  before 
thought  of  the  cruelty  of  imposing  George  Orcutt's 
past  on  an  innocent  man.  She  tried  to  reach  a  chair. 
With  quick  hand  he  caught  up  the  chair  and  pushed 
it  toward  her.  His  arm  encircled  her  shoulder  as 
he  endeavored  to  guide  her  to  its  depth. 

With  a  cry  of  terror  she  flung  his  arm  off  and 
stood  erect,  her  eyes  ablaze. 

"Don't  touch  me,"  she  screamed. 

"Sit  down,  please,"  he  entreated,  then  he  stood 
looking  down  on  her  as  she  clung  tremblingly  to  the 
arms  of  the  rocker.  "Do  you  feel  faint?  Shall  I 
call  Doctor  Underwood?" 

"No,  no!" 

He  brought  a  glass  of  water. 

"Drink  this  and  try  to  calm  yourself.  Come, 
there  is  nothing  to  be  frightened  over.  When  you 
are  composed  enough  to  talk  I  am  ready  to  listen 
to  whatever  you  may  have  to  tell  me  and  to  obey 
your  commands  to  the  letter.  Truly,  I'm  a  great 
deal  more  afraid  of  you  than  you  are  of  me." 

The  laughter  in  his  voice  gave  her  an  assurance 
that  no  verbal  protestation  could.  She  interpreted 
him  as  a  soldier  of  fortune,  accepting  with  equani- 
mity victory  or  defeat,  not  refusing  the  luxuries  that 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  65 

fate  might  bestow,  but  accepting  calmly,  even  if 
ironically,  her  proffered  hardships.  She  raised  her 
eyes  valiantly — only  to  find  his  bent  admiringly  upon 
her. 

"Don't  stare  at  me  so !"  she  cried  out  impulsively, 
then  reddened  at  a  rudeness  she  had  not  intended, 
and  at  his  still  searching  gaze. 

"I  can't  help  it.  To  tell  the  truth  I'm  so  be- 
fuddled I  don't  know  just  how  to  act.  You're  as 
strange  to  me  as  though  I  had  never  seen  you  be- 
fore— yet,  you're  my  wife,  my  wife!" 

He  walked  to  the  window,  returned,  looked  down 
at  her  curiously. 

"You  have  borne  me  a  child — you  must  have 
loved  me  once.  And  the  boy— he  loves  me  now.  .  .  . 
Yet  it's  so  strange  for  me  to  contemplate  my  own 
wife  that  I  can  only  look  at  her  in  stupid  bewilder- 
ment. And  to  find  myself  rich,  literally  a  man  of 
millions !  it's  staggering.  Everything  that  repre- 
sents my  past  life  seems  utterly  foreign  to  me — 
wealth,  a  wife,  a  child,  a  reputation  for  sordid 
amours."  He  walked  the  room  again.  "It's  weird 
— this  returning  to  a  past  that  somehow  doesn't 
fit." 

A  flash  of  humor  lighted  his  whole  face,  yet  there 
was  no  muscular  disturbance  of  the  features — a  phe- 
nomenon so  striking  and  withal  so  singularly  win- 
ning that  Gail  forgot  her  fears  for  the  instant  and 
gazed  at  him  in  round-eyed  curiosity.  He  misin- 
terpreted her  expression. 


66  THE    WOMAN'S    LAW 

"It  isn't  exactly  diplomatic  to  say  this  to  you,  I 
know.  But  the  idea  of  a  wife  is  the  most  staggering 
of  all.  When  I  first  beheld  you  I  felt  a  wave  of 
tenderness  sweep  over  me  that  made  me  for  a  mo- 
ment believe  you  had  kindled  a  forgotten  passion. 
But  no;  it  was  your  beauty,  your  charm,  the  alto- 
gether alluring  sweetness  of  you.  .  .  . 

"I  should  like  to  take  you  close  in  my  arms  and 
kiss  you — but  as  a  woman  that  appeals  to  the  man 
I  am  to-day,  not  because  of  an  affection  that  once 
existed  between  us." 

Another  expression  lighted  his  countenance,  an 
intensity  of  longing. 

"Ah — the  past ! — to  find  it  again.  This  baf- 
fling of  memory  is  maddening!"  He  looked  at  her 
steadily.  "Doubly  maddening  now  that  you  are  a 
part  of  that  past.  You  command  me  not  to  touch 
you  ever  so  casually,  yet — I  have  been  your  hus- 
band and  lover.  We " 

He  stopped  before  the  tremulous  cry  that  escaped 
her  and  the  blushes  that  crimsoned  her  face  from 
hair  to  neck-band.  He  laughed,  with  a  sort  of  boy- 
ish enjoyment  in  her  discomfiture. 

"Ah ! — and  you  are  now  ashamed.  Tell  me  why, 
my  wife.  Is  it  because  I  have  forgotten?  But 
why  should  that  make  me  seem  strange  to  you?  I 
am  no  less  your  husband." 

She  clutched  at  this  opening.  Her  embarrass- 
ment lost  itself  in  the  thought  of  the  battle  yet  to 
be  won. 


'Don't  stare  at  me  so !'  " — Page 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  67 

"No,  you  are  no  less  my  husband  than  you  have 
been  for  seven  years,"  she  uttered  coldly.  "Six 
months  ended  our  marriage  save  in  name  and  out- 
ward formality." 

As  she  looked  into  his  frank  face  and  felt  the 
straightforward  nature  confronting  her  duplicity 
she  found  herself  wavering  again.  Could  she  carry 
out  her  deception  day  after  day  under  the  honest 
eyes  now  gazing  so  steadily  into  hers?  Would  she 
not  grow  confused  in  contact  with  his  simple  direct- 
ness? And  his  strength  that  she  so  readily  felt — 
could  she  meet  it  successfully? 

"Tell  me  why  our  marriage  ended  in  six  months," 
he  insisted  gently. 

No;  it  would  not  be  easy  to  go  on;  but  it  was 
impossible  to  stop.  Her  articulatory  muscles  were 
working  automatically,  giving  birth  to  words  even 
as  she  debated. 

"Will  you  listen  patiently  while  I  tell  you  a  little 
tale?"  she  asked. 

"About  you  and  me?" 

"About  George  Orcutt  and  Gail  Revelling,"  she 
answered,  averting  her  eyes.  She  felt  less  guilty 
toward  him  in  using  the  subterfuge. 

She  spoke  in  a  low  voice. 

"Gail's  mother  died  while  she  was  a  baby.  She 
was  brought  up  by  her  father  and  an  old  Brazilian 
nurse.  The  mother  was  a  Brazilian  of  Spanish  and 
French  blood.  From  the  time  Gail  could  ask  for  a 
story  she  was  fed  on  romance  by  the  old  Carlotta. 


68  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

Ah !  those  were  strange  tales  she  heard ! — but  in 
all,  love  was  the  central  theme.  Carlotta  did  not 
care  for  tragedy  in  itself.  There  were  always  a 
beautiful  senorita  and  a  gallant  cavalier,  separated 
sometimes  by  cruel  parents  or  mercenary  relatives, 
or  again  divided  by  jealousy  and  anger.  But  no 
matter  how  harrowing  the  separation  nor  how 
heightened  with  adventure — elopement,  bloodshed, 
war — in  the  end  the  loving  pair  married  and  lived 
faithful  to  each  other  till  death  parted  them — and 
even  after — for  one  of  the  choicest  stories  was 
where  the  husband  shut  himself  up  in  his  castle  and 
never  looked  on  a  woman's  face  again. 

"These  seemingly  virtuous  tales  of  the  old  Car- 
lotta were  bad  for  the  child  Gail.  They  misrepre- 
sented life."  Her  eyes  flamed  with  passion.  "They 
were  founded  on  lies.  The  girl  was  taught  to  be- 
lieve a  man  faithful  to  the  woman  he  married. 
Marriage  was  one  long  honeymoon.  And  the  gay 
cavalier  was  handsome  and  wealthy  and  somewhat 
of  a  swaggerer,  a  daring  brigand  outwardly,  with 
a  heart  tender  and  true."  She  laughed  bitterly. 
"Was  it  any  wonder  the  seventeen-year-old  Gail 
took  George  Orcutt  for  a  knight?  Even  his  marks 
of  dissipation  helped  on  the  illusion.  She  loved, 
not  him,  but  the  knight  she  believed  him,  loved 
madly,  pouring  out  her  love  in  ecstatic  ca- 
resses  " 

"Ah!" 

She  turned  swiftly  upon  his  exultant  exclamation. 


THE    WOMAN'S    LAW  69 

"To  her  shame,  now !  If  she  lived  to  be  a  thou- 
sand she  would  shudder  under  George  Orcutt's 
touch  and  the  remembrance  of  those  days.  There 
were  a  month  of  courtship  and  six  months  of  mar- 
riage while  she  was  blindly  happy.  Blindly,  for  she 
had  shared  him  from  the  beginning  with  a  public 
dancer  that  he  had  met  the  same  evening  he  first 
saw  her.  And  a  previous  favorite  shared  him  with 
both  wife  and  dancer.  It  was  jealousy  of  the  dancer 
for  this  woman — they  were  both  indifferent  to  the 
wife,  knowing  that  she  did  not  really  count — that 
enlightened  Gail  about  her  knight.  The  dancer  fol- 
lowed him  home  and " 

The  dry  sob  that  cut  off  her  words  was  sympathy 
for  the  girl,  Gail.  The  old  poignant  anguish  welled 
up.  The  flood  of  her  own  misery  drowned  the  con- 
trition she  had  felt  in  hurting  the  man  before  her. 
He  became  simply  Man — cruel,  sensual,  faithless 
to  all  principle  and  honor. 

She  resumed  her  story,  the  softness  gone  from 
her  voice. 

"They — the  other  two — continued  their  fight,  but 
it  was  about  air.  George  had  deserted  both  for 
yet  another.  The  wife  did  not  even  struggle — she 
learned  in  one  interview  that  her  day  was  over,  that 
in  reality  it  had  never  been  except  in  her  own  de- 
luded imagination.  Her  life  had  not  been  of  a  na- 
ture to  make  her  self-reliant.  She  did  go  to  her 
father — Ah-h!"  beating  her  hands  fiercely  together 
in  a  torrent  of  memory — "She  was  sent  back  the 


,70  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

same  day  to  her  home,  her  path  mapped  out  for 
her — her  tortuous  path  that  she  has  walked  for 
seven  years — and — is — still  walking.  .  .  .  She  is 
not  quite — sure — whether  she — could  have  acted — 
differently.  .  .  .  The  child  was  coming " 

"Stop!" 

She  rose  and  faced  him. 

"That  is  'Why.'  " 

A  spot  of  red  flamed  his  either  cheek. 

"It's  a  damnable  past  to  fall  heir  to.  But  in 
God's  truth,  Gail,  I  am  not  that  man." 

"You — are — not "  She  felt  the  floor  sink- 
ing beneath  her. 

"No!"  His  tone  was  authoritative.  "It  is  a 
case  of  double  personality.  It  must  be.  Two  sep- 
arate and  distinct  personalities  occupy  my  body — 
one,  a  brute, — the  other,  well,  at  least,  a  gentle- 
man." 

She  laughed — a  long,  shrill  peal  of  hysteria. 


X 


>"T"VO  be  prepared  for  exposure,  to  await  with 
bated  breath  the  denouncement  of  herself  as 
a  hypocrite  and  a  cheat,  then — to  have  her  duplicity 
bolstered  up  into  an  interesting  phenomenon, 
weighty  with  the  trade-mark  of  science.  It  was 
ghastly  funny. 

"Don't  laugh,  Gail !"  said  the  man  sternly.  "You 
must  believe  me.  There  are  two  George  Orcutts 
— two.  I,  the  /  of  to-day,  refuse  to  be  punished 
for  the  sins  of  the  other  George." 

She  waited  a  moment  before  answering,  looked 
at  him  meditatively.  He  was  helping  her — just  as 
he  had  helped  her  before.  She  had  looked  to  find 
a  double  of  George  Orcutt  that  might  serve  her 
for  a  day;  and  he,  the  man  before  her,  had  risen 
out  of  the  curbing  to  save  her!  And  now  he  had 
strengthened  her  pitifully  weak  hand  with  this  card ! 
Double  personality !  She  knew  too  little  about  it  to 
venture  to  use  it  herself.  But  she  realized  that  it 
would  account  for  many  of  the  differences  between 
this  man  and  the  real  George — differences  for 
which  all  her  soul's  harrowing  had  not  been  able 

71 


72  THE    WOMAN'S    LAW 

to  create  a  satisfying  explanation.  He  was  helping 
her — even  if  unconsciously.  And  there  was  a  boy- 
ish candor  in  his  eyes.  A  nausea,  not  of  weakness 
now,  but  revolt,  assailed  her.  She  did  not  want  to 
hurt  him.  It  was  almost  as  though  she  was  hurting 
Vance. 

Vance! 

Her  voice  came  now,  and  coldly: 

"It  is  not  for  you  to  choose,  as  far  as  your  rela- 
tions with  me  are  concerned.  I  cannot  prevent  your 
return  to  your  home,  nor  do  I  desire  to,  but  I  can 
leave  the  house  if  you  intrude  upon  my  privacy.  I 
am  not  now  financially  in  your  power  as  I  was  seven 
years  ago.  When  your  father  died  last  year  he  left 
the  Mamaroneck  house  to  me,  and  the  incomes  from 
the  Bowdoin  apartments  and  the  Orcutt  office  build- 
ing. He  also  provided  for  Vance's  minority  inde- 
pendently of  you.  And  your  property  is  safeguarded 
so  that  you  can  use  only  the  income.  Your  father 
was  as  insistent  that  I  should  live  with  you  and  pre- 
serve 'the  integrity  of  the  family'  as  mine  was,  but 
his  will  shows  that  he  knew  the  same  George  that 
I  knew — yourself,  no  other." 

The  man  was  pale  now,  and  his  eyes  were  no 
longer  mildly  brown;  they  were  black  with  anger. 
Yet  he  spoke  calmly,  even  with  pleasing  dignity. 

"I  contend  that  I  am  not  the  man  who  dishon- 
ored you  by  his  unfaithfulness.  I  demand  that  you 
allow  me  to  prove  to  you  the  sort  of  man  I  am  now. 
I  do  not  intend  that  you  shall  belittle  me  in  my  son's 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  73 

eyes  and  in  our  friends'  estimation  by  punishing  me 
for  acts  that  /  did  not  commit.  You  shall  treat 
me  with  the  respect  that  my  present  personality 
deserves."  He  held  out  his  hand.  "Are  we  to  be 
friends,  my  wife?" 

"And  if  I  refuse?" 

"I  am  asking  only  justice.  I  appreciate  what 
you  have  suffered  through  the  other  George  Orcutt. 
But  he  is  a  stranger  to  me — I  should  not  be  held 
responsible  for  his  sins." 

Again  she  maintained  a  long  silence,  trying  to 
find  the  best  way  to  meet  his  challenge.  She  was 
stupefied  at  the  situation  she  found  herself  in — the 
man's  calm  assumption  of  being  her  master,  and 
his  refusal  to  identify  himself  with  George  Orcutt's 
past.  She  felt  her  ground  slipping  from  under  her. 

"I  asked  you  what  you  would  do  if  I  refused 
to  accept  your  proffered  friendship?"  she  asked  in 
a  low  voice.  "You — cannot — force  me  into — any- 
thing against  my  will." 

"Nor  have  I  any  desire  to  force  you  to  do  any- 
thing against  your  will.  I  have  no  intention  of 
asserting  my  rights  as  your  husband  in  a  way  obnox- 
ious to  you.  Neither  have  I  the  intention  of  docilely 
accepting  your  decree  of  virtual  separation  between 
us.  I  ask  that  you  forget  the  past  and  meet  me 
with  an  open  mind — allowing  the  man  I  now  am  to 
win  you  or  lose  you.  As  long  as  I  am  your  husband 
in  name,  isn't  it  better  that  we  should  try  to  be  hus- 
band and  wife  in  spirit  also?  We  must  eventually 


74  THE    WOMAN'S    LAW 

become  husband  and  wife  in  truth  or  not  at  all.  I 
shall  either  have  a  wife  or  not  have  her.  But  I 
demand  the  chance  to  earn  your  respect  and  love 
and  to  let  your  charms  quicken  my  affections.  Out- 
side of  our  own  feelings  is  our  duty  to  Vance — we 
could  scarcely  divide  him." 

"You  would  not — Oh  God  in  Heaven! — you 
would  not  take  Vance  from  me!"  she  shrieked. 

"Not  willingly."  His  voice  was  grimly  pleasant. 
Again  he  held  out  his  hand.  "Come,  Gail,  you 
cannot  deny  my  right  to  make  amends  for  the  past. 
I  am  simply  asking  for  justice.  Give  it  to  me — 
don't  force  me  into  driving  you  to  be  fair." 

She  clutched  the  arms  of  the  chair.  A  deadly 
pallor  overspread  her  face.  The  law  would  give 
the  son  to  the  father.  He  was  to  hold  this  cudgel 
always  over  her  head;  first,  to  force  her  to  be 
friends;  then 

She  sprang  up,  screamed  wildly. 

"But  you  can't!  Vance  is  mine! You  are 

not — not — not "  But  the  right  words  would 

not  come "not — worthy — of — him "  It 

was  scarcely  more  than  a  whisper. 

"The  other  George  may  not  have  been,  /  am," 
was  his  reply.  Humor  illuminated  his  face  again. 
"He  agrees  with  me.  He  told  me  just  now  that 
he  loves  me  better  than  anyone  except  his  mama." 

"Oh!"  It  was  a  heart-breaking  cry.  She  buried 
her  face  against  the  chair-back,  moaning  pitifully. 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  75 

"Gail!"  He  bent  over  her.  "My  own  dear 
girl !  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  you  so." 

"It  is  true,  he  does  love  you,"  she  moaned  bro- 
kenly. "You — have  me  at — your — mercy " 

"You  won't  find  me  a  hard  bargainer,  my  wife. 
I  ask  only  that  we  be  friends  in  truly  platonic  fash- 
ion till  I  win  or  lose  you.  Perhaps  with  such  a  past 
I  should  be  more  humble  and  ask  nothing.  But  I 
simply  can't  get  the  proper  connection  with  that 
past  to  make  it  seem  my  responsibility  to  atone  for 
it.  But,  zounds !  I  don't  want  you  without  your 
love."  He  twinkled  again.  "Really,  you're  not  my 
wife.  I  didn't  choose  you.  Nor  did  you  choose 
this  me.  Let's  begin  all  over  again,  dear." 

She  looked  up  at  him  curiously,  trying  to  fathom 
what  manner  of  man  he  really  was.  Beneath  the 
gay  banter  of  his  smile  she  read  purpose,  an  unflinch- 
ing purpose  that  could  indulge  in  laughter  and 
badinage  without  swerving  a  hair's  breadth.  And, 
strangely,  as  she  read  his  strength,  her  own  failing 
strength  revived.  The  game  they  were  playing 
became  something  desirable  in  itself.  She  ignored 
the  fact  that  he  was  not  playing  a  game.  To  her 
fevered  brain  they  became  two  skilled  opponents, 
the  only  question  to  be  settled  between  them  the  one 
of  supremacy  of  skill. 

As  she  still  stared  at  him  in  contemplation  the 
door  opened  and  Vance  entered. 

"Excuse  me,"  he  apologized.     "I  thought  you'd 


76  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

surely  be  through  talking  by  this  time."  He  sidled 
up  to  his  "father." 

"Did  you  truly  mean  you'd  go  riding  with  me, 
Papa?  Oh!"  clapping  his  hands  at  the  affirmative 
shake  of  the  head.  "Oh!  bully!  What  was  it  you 
called  me? — partner?  and  it  means? " 

"That  you  and  I  are  to  be  pals — and  that  means 
that  we're  to  stand  by  each  other  through  thick  and 
thin;  that  if  we  get  down  to  our  last  dollar — or 
dime,  perhaps — we'll  share  it.  And  with  a  smile, 
partner,  always  with  a  smile." 

"Do  you  hear,  Mama?  Papa  and  I  are  to  be 
pals!  Oh!  Oh!"  jumping  up  and  down  in  his 
joy. 

"Yes,  partner,"  repeated  the  man.  "And  your 
Mama  and  I  are  to  be  friends,  good,  true  friends, 
who  trust  in  each  other's  fairness  and  will  play 

square  by  each  other  always Isn't  that  right, 

Gail?" 

She  rose  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"Yes,  friends,"  said  she,  and  forced  herself  to 
smile. 


XI 


/~|~"VHE  atmosphere  of  the  Riverside  Drive  house 
was  charged  with  excitement.  The  house- 
keeper, a  portly  matron  with  iron-gray  hair  and 
double  chin;  the  butler,  portly  and  bald;  the  up- 
stairs girls  and  the  parlor-maid,  near-pretty  young 
things;  the  fat  cook,  Miss  Lauder,  the  governess; 
Gregory,  Bryan,  and  the  other  retainers  of  the 
household,  all  anxiously  awaited  the  return  of  the 
master  of  the  house.  Gail's  first  impulse  had  been 
to  discharge  the  whole  retinue  and  replace  them  with 
servants  that  had  never  known  the  real  Orcutt.  She 
feared  the  quizzing  eyes  of  their  servitors  more 
than  those  of  friends.  Experience  had  shown  her 
that  they  were  more  discerning  of  trifles.  The 
butler  had  once  suggested,  with  much  coughing  and 
many  digressions,  that  he  knew  a  remedy  that  would 
painlessly  remove  the  mole  on  the  back  of  Mrs. 
Lorme's  neck,  the  existence  of  which  Gail  had  not 
known  till  then.  Gregory  had  discovered  that  one 
of  Vance's  ears  set  a  fraction  lower  than  the  other, 
a  fact  overlooked  for  five  years  by  his  mother.  From 
recriminations  during  a  quarrel  between  the  cook 

77 


78  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

and  the  parlor-maid,  Gail  had  learned  that  the  par- 
lor-maid's eyes  were  green  rather  than  blue  and 
that  the  cook  had  "more  hair  on  her  face  than  a 
lady  ought  to  have."  Eyes  open  to  details  would 
find  many  little  differences  between  the  two  men 
that  had  escaped  her,  carefully  as  she  had  studied 
them. 

Second  thought  told  her  that,  however  great  the 
risk,  it  must  be  taken.  To  discharge  the  old  help 
in  a  body  and  engage  new  would  arouse  suspicion 
outside  her  walls  that  would  not  end  till  the  truth 
— or  something  damagingly  near  it — had  been 
reached.  The  newspapers  were  again  giving  their 
readers  the  Orcutt  case  in  prominent  headlines. 
Moralizing  editorials  were  appearing  The  papers 
that  seek  to  prejudice  "mass"  against  "class"  were 
sneering  and  scathingly  wrathful  over  his  recov- 
ery. Alienists,  district  attorney,  public,  all  were 
arraigned  and  violently  denounced  for  this  latest 
"outrage."  The  joke-makers  added  their  share, 
finding  the  "lost  memory"  and  "double  personality" 
rich  material  for  their  pens.  So,  too,  the  cartoonists. 
A  financier  just  then  in  the  public  eye,  a  corpora- 
tion head,  the  President,  the  Mayor,  and  lesser 
lights,  disported  themselves  in  caricatures  labeled, 
"Another  lost  memory,"  "  'Twas  not  I,  dear  Public, 
but  my  double!"  etc. 

She  would  take  her  chances  with  the  servants, 
trusting  them  to  invent  their  own  explanations  for 
whatever  difference  they  discovered.  Having 


THE    WOMAN'S    LAW  79 

invented  an  explanation,  they  would  believe  it 
against  any  and  all  proof  to  the  contrary.  She 
harked  back  to  the  talk  she  had  had  with  Judge 
Allison — the  pregnant  talk  upon  which  she  had 
builded  George  Orcutt's  escape.  He  had  said  that 
the  charm  of  a  mystery  lies  not  in  its  actual  solution, 
but  in  its  vulnerability  to  innumerable  solutions, 
and  that  a  mind,  especially  the  untrained  mind,  once 
inoculated  with  its  own  intoxicating  "discovery," 
is  immune  to  every  other — professional  deceivers 
having  thrived  through  all  the  ages  on  this  trait 
in  human  kind.  To  come  upon  an  intricately  woven 
partition,  seemingly  impenetrable,  then — to  find  a 
secret  opening  through,  or  over,  or  under! — and 
by  oneself !  Joy  in  the  marvelous  achievement  blinds 
the  eyes  to  the  ordinary  gateway,  though  it  be  as 
high  and  wide  as  the  sky  itself. 

She  gave  no  information  to  her  household  save 
that  Mr.  Orcutt  had  recovered  from  his  illness 
except  for  loss  of  memory  of  people  and  places,  and 
that  he  was  to  return  home.  She  refused  to  be  in- 
terviewed by  reporters.  The  newspaper  informa- 
tion about  the  lost  memory  and  double  personality 
came  from  the  sanatorium.  And  though  this  was 
of  the  most  meagre  sort,  it  afforded  sufficient  ammu- 
nition for  the  reporter.  Books  on  double  person- 
ality were  quickly  scanned  and  their  contents  used 
as  material  out  of  which  to  weave  a  marvelous 
psychological  story,  with  George  Orcutt  as  the  cen- 
tral figure.  The  information  was  given  out  as 


8o  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

though  coming  directly  from  Doctor  Underwood. 
He  did  not  dispute  this,  allowing  both  the  public 
and  Gail  to  believe  that  he  had  been  correctly 
reported. 

That  Morris  Underwood,  noted  for  his  penetra- 
tion and  canny  wisdom,  should  mistake  fiction  for 
fact,  inspired  Gail  with  new  courage.  Her  spirits 
rose  with  a  bound  that  almost  carried  her  doubts 
away,  bringing  her  perilously  near  to  the  self-hyp- 
notic state  of  belief  that  desire  so  often  induces. 
She  found  herself  smiling  fearlessly  at  the  gruff 
alienist  as  she  bade  him  adieu. 

Orcutt,  for  such  we  must  call  him,  held  the  doc- 
tor's hand  a  long  while  in  parting. 

"You  haven't  seen  the  last  of  me,"  said  he  soberly, 
a  note  of  affection  in  his  voice  that  brought  an 
answering  gleam  to  the  beady  eyes  behind  the  big 
spectacles.  "I'm  coming  out  to  talk  with  you  as 
o'ften  as  you  will  let  me.  And  you're  to  make  our 
home  your  city  headquarters,  remember.  I've  told 
you  all  this  before,  and  am  simply  emphasizing  it 
now.  I'm  feeling  very  much  at  sea;  you're  my  one 
landmark — don't  desert  me,  Underwood." 

"You  can  depend  on  me  to  see  you  through," 
replied  the  doctor,  and  his  laugh  held  a  deeper 
meaning  than  any  of  his  hearers  realized.  He 
stepped  back,  smiled  encouragingly  at  his  ex-pa- 
tient. Bryan  moved  the  lever  and  the  car  shot 
down  the  driveway  and  out  upon  the  road. 

"We're  off,"  cried  Vance.     "We're  off  for  home, 


THE    WOMAN'S    LAW  81 

Papa."  The  child  sat  between  the  two  on  the  wide 
back  seat  of  the  big  car.  Orcutt  looked  humorously 
over  his  head  at  Gail. 

"We're  off  for  somewhere;  destination  unknown, 
is  as  near  as  we  can  say  it,  isn't  it?" 

"Papa !"  Vance  caught  an  arm  in  both  hands. 
"You're  going  home.  And  you  and  I  are  going 
riding  in  the  morning.  You  haven't  forgot  that?" 
anxiously.  "And  you're  going  to  stay  home  lots 
more'n  you  used  to.  You've  promised  me." 

"And  you  say  my  horse  has  a  white  star  in  his 
forehead;  I  always  like  a  horse  with  a  white  star  in 
his  forehead,  if  his  legs  are  good,"  bantered  the 
man. 

"His  legs?"  Vance  looked  disturbed  for  a  mo- 
ment; then  relievedly:  "But  you  bought  him,  Papa; 
of  course  his  legs  are  good.  You  told  me  once — the 
time  I  went  riding  with  you  before,"  proudly,  "that 
you  always  knew  a  good  nag  even  when  you  were 
a  little  boy.  And  that  it  was  a  remarkable  thing  for 
a  city  boy  to  know  that." 

"A  city  boy?  Was  I  a  city  boy?  I  have  a  curious 
feeling  that  somehow  the  city  and  I  are  only  speak- 
ing acquaintances.  I  should  have  said  I  was  raised 
in  the  country.  Where  else  did  I  learn  about  birds 
and  insects,  and  berries  and  wild  flowers  and  a  mass 
of  wood  lore?  The  doctor  and  I  never  walked  in 
the  woods  that  I  didn't  surprise  him  with  my  inti- 
mate acquaintance  with  it  and  its  habitants." 


82  THE    WOMAN'S    LAW 

He  was  speaking  to  himself,  meditatively,  his 
brow  puckered  in  the  painful  task  of  trying  to  catch 
the  elusive  something  that  seemed  always  on  the 
point  of  being  caught,  and  always,  at  the  seemingly 
crucial  moment,  evading  him. 

"You  had  a  summer  home  on  the  Hudson,"  came 
Gail's  voice,  quickly.  "And  you  attended  a  prepa- 
ratory school  at  some  little  town  in  New  Jersey — 
Leighton,  I  think." 

"Why,  Papa,  don't  you  remember  what  you  did 
when  you  were  a  little  boy?" 

"Dear,  I  told  you  that  Papa  had  forgotten  all 
about  the  things  he  used  to  do,  and  the  people  he 
used  to  know.  I  thought  you  understood." 

"Yes;  but  I  didn't  know  you  meant  he  had  for- 
gotten the  things  he  did  when  he  was  a  boy.  I  don't 
see  how  he  could  forget — that!" 

The  man  laughed  so  heartily  that  Gail's  set  lips 
relaxed  to  an  almost  merry  smile.  The  day  was 
conducive  to  lightness  of  spirits.  The  foliage  along 
the  roadway  was  gorgeously  resplendent,  reds  and 
golds  and  burnished  greens;  the  air  was  splendidly 
fresh  and  cool;  the  swift,  motionless  speed  of  the 
car  along  the  smooth  highway,  intoxicating  in  the 
illusion  it  gave  of  being  borne  on  wings  through  the 
air.  It  was  impossible  not  to  tingle  with  the  fullness 
of  living. 

"You  say  you  got  my  letter  and  have  learned 
the  names  of  the  servants,"  she  said.  "I  thought  it 
would  make  it  less  confusing  for  you  and  for  them." 


THE    WOMAN'S    LAW  83 

"Yes,"  he  laughed.  "It's  a  good  thing  I've  grown 
accustomed  to  so  many  attendants  at  the  hospital; 
otherwise  the  thought  of  those  twenty  servants 
would  be  more  disquieting  than  you  can  imagine. 
I  have  a  feeling  that  I've  bossed  a  crowd  of  men 
around,  but  I  can't  seem  to  accept  the  fact  of  white- 
capped  and  obsequious  females  as  being  natural  to 
me  and  my  house.  Did  we  always  have  so  many 
maids?" 

"Why,  Papa !"  Vance's  voice  was  shrill  with 
remonstrance.  "You  know  we  have.  Why,  Per- 
kins said  you  could  keep  a  hundred  servants  on  the 
jump.  And  it  was  the  maids  you  liked  to  wait  on 
you  always.  They  didn't,  because — well,  I  don't 
know  just  why;  I  guess  because  they  weren't  engaged 
for  that — they're  very  particular  to  do  just  what 
they're  engaged  to  do "  sagely.  "But " 

"Papa  has  forgotten,  dear.  And  you  keep  for- 
getting about  his  lost  memory."  She  looked  straight 
at  Orcutt  for  the  first  time  that  day.  "I  think  it 
would  be  well  not  to  speak  too  freely  about  the 
change  you  feel  within  yourself.  It  is  not  easy  for 
others  to  accept  the  situation  as  it  is.  It  is  so 
strange  that " 

"To  make  them  see  it  straight  it  must  be  pre- 
sented obliquely,"  he  concluded,  smiling.  "I  accept 
your  advice.  But  we  mustn't  exclude  the  boy;  he'll 
soon  learn  that  his  Papa  is  really  two  men.  One 
spirit  has  occupied  his  body  for  a  while  and  gone 
away,  and  the  new  spirit  doesn't  remember  what 


84  THE    WOMAN'S    LAW 

the  other  spirit  did.  It's  still  Papa,  but  a  different 
phase  of  him,  a  presentation  Vance  hasn't  seen 
before." 

"Oh!  that's  why  you're  so  much  nicer,"  cried  the 
boy.  "This — spirit  understands  a  boy  better  or — 
something.  You  were  always  pretty  nice,  but  now 
you're  bully.  But — I — wish — this  spirit  didn't  use 
such  big  words." 

The  man  laughed,  though  again  unsatisfied  ques- 
tioning appeared  in  his  eyes. 

"I  thought  I  was  a  very  unpretentious  speaker, 
Vance.  I'll  remember  and  simplify  my  vocabulary." 

"There  you  go  again!"  The  child  was  seriously 
disapproving.  "You  use  bigger  words  than  Mama. 
The  other — spirit  didn't.  And  I  liked  it.  It's  tire- 
some to  stop  all  the  time  and  have  words  explained, 
and  'less  they  are  explained  I  don't  know  exac'ly 
what's  meant,  and  I  like  to  know  exac'ly." 

"But  that's  the  way  you  learn,"  expostulated  his 
mother.  She  again  looked  fully  at  Orcutt.  "I  have 
never  talked  down  to  him;  I  don't  believe  in  it." 
Her  look  said  "and  you  must  not."  He  did  not 
answer,  but  a  humorous  twist  of  the  lips  made  her 
think  he  would  do  as  he  pleased  in  the  matter. 

The  car  stopped. 

"Home!"  cried  Vance. 

The  man  looked  quickly  at  the  imposing  stone 
structure.  "Home?"  he  said  blankly.  "Home?" 


XII 


TTOME?" 

Orcutt  repeated  the  word  again  a  few 
hours  later.  He  stood  in  George  Orcutt's  room  by 
the  mantel,  an  elaborately  carved  mantel  of  Bac- 
chantes in  marble.  Over  his  head,  disporting  them- 
selves against  a  background  of  soft  blue,  were  other 
graceful  nymphs,  done  by  the  master-hand  of  the 
man  Orcutt  had  killed.  Still  others  of  ivory  and 
of  bronze  stood  on  pedestals  and  brackets;  and 
these  were  but  a  beginning.  The  walls  were  cov- 
ered with  pictures  of  female  beauty,  scantily  draped, 
if  at  all.  Scenes  of  reveling  maidens  were  painted 
on  the  head  and  the  foot-boards  of  the  great  cano- 
pied bed;  the  canopy  was  embroidered  with  laugh- 
ing sprites.  A  rare  tapestried  screen  added  other 
ravishing  visions. 

More  than  all  Gail's  words  the  room  told  him 
what  sort  of  man  the  "other  George  Orcutt"  was — 
the  man  he  believed  himself  to  have  been.  He  stood 
there,  faint  with  a  strange  nausea,  sickened  as  is 
one  with  the  stenching  perfume  of  a  closed  roomful 
of  strongly  fragrant  flowers.  There  was  nothing 
in  statue  or  painting  or  tapestry  that  was  offensive 
in  itself.  Any  one  or  any  half-dozen  of  the  por- 

85 


86  THE    WOMAN'S    LAW 

trayed  nymphs  might  acceptably  grace  the  room.  It 
was  the  insistence  on  the  one  side  of  art,  the  harping 
on  the  one  theme,  the  excessive  numbers  of  the  one 
subject  that  betrayed  the  warped  mind  of  its  pos- 
sessor. The  emphasis  was  on  woman,  and  not  on 
art.  It  was  art  solely  for  the  sake  of  revealing 
woman,  her  beauties  and  seductiveness.  There  was 
no  pretence  at  disguising  the  ruling  sentiment — art 
was  merely  a  tool  for  the  glorification  of  female 
nudity.  The  possession  of  millions  had  made  the 
possession  of  real  art  productions  possible;  but  no 
observer  could  doubt  that  a  penniless  George  Orcutt 
would  have  had  his  room  crowded  with  presenta- 
tions of  the  same  subject,  let  them  be  tawdry  litho- 
graphs or  prints  or  whatnot,  and  however  cheap 
and  glaringly  inartistic. 

Nor  was  his  room  all  that  caused  his  sickening 
sense  of  disappointment  and  his  feeling  of  oppres- 
sion. The  whole  house  appeared  crowded  to  him, 
overburdened  with  furniture  and  rugs  and  endless 
works  of  art.  He  admitted  that  it  was  harmonious 
in  color  and  arrangement,  but  it  did  not  bring  the 
"home"  feeling  to  him.  He  felt  rebellious  against 
it  and  the  ceremonious  servants  and  the  formalities 
of  the  dinner  table.  He  felt  alien  to  the  house 
and  everything  in  it,  and  wondered  how  he  was  to 
adjust  himself  to  an  environment  that,  however  old, 
persisted  in  seeming  new.  In  the  midst  of  his  medi- 
tations, Jackson,  the  butler,  appeared.  He  carried 
a  salver  holding  a  decanter  and  glass. 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  87 

"I've  brought  yuh  some  apricot  brandy,  sah.  You 
never  was  overfond  of  wine,  an'  I  noticed  yuh  didn't 
drink  any  at  dinner,  sah.  Brandy  was  always  yuh 
favorite — yuh  ordered  this  jist  before  yuh  was  ill." 

"Wait!"  Orcutt  stayed  him  as  he  lifted  the 
decanter.  "You've  been  with  us  a  long  while — 
how  long,  Jackson?" 

"About  twenty  years.  I  came  to  your  fathah 
when  I  was  eighteen  and  you  twelve.  And  I  came 
to  you  and  Mis'  Orcutt  when  you  was  married,  sah." 

"Do  you  find  me  greatly  changed,  Jackson?  The 
truth  now.  I  am  so  changed  in  my  feelings  and  my 
views  on  things  I  want  to  know  how  I  seem  to  you 
who  have  known  me  for  years." 

"Well,  yuh  look  a  little  different,  sah,"  said  the 
man  cautiously.  He  was  a  mulatto,  with  little  look 
of  the  negro  in  his  features,  and  with  a  shrewdness 
and  natural  intelligence  recognized  by  his  employers 
and  the  other  help,  all  white.  That  and  his  long 
years  of  service  in  the  Orcutt  family  made  him  the 
virtual  head  of  the  serving  force. 

"How?" 

The  man  hesitated. 

"Yuh  ain't  been  drinkin'  hard  foh  a  long  time — > 
p'raps  it's  just  that  you  look  sober,  sah." 

"So  you're  bringing  me  some  brandy  to  see  if  you 
can  make  me  look  natural,  eh?  I'll  cut  out  all 
liquor  for  a  while,  Jackson.  Come,  tell  me  how 
I  am  different." 

"That's  your  forehead  an'  your  hair  an'  beard 


88  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

an'  body,  sah;  but  the  nose  seems  smaller,  the 
swellin'  gone  down  more'n  likely.  But  the  expres- 
sion of  the  eyes  an'  the  laugh  an'  the  speech,  sah, 
are  considerable  different,  considerable,  sah." 

"But  why  should  they  be?"  questioned  the  other 
irritably. 

Jackson  cleared  his  throat. 

"I  think  the  answer  to  that  is  simply,  sah,  that 
it  always  happens." 

"Always?  You  mean  the  times  that  I've  been 
like  this  before?" 

"No,  sah.  I  never  saw  you  like  this  before.  But 
it  happens  to  all  the  other  persons  who  have  a 
double  personality.  The  outward  man  always 
changes  along  with  the  inner  one,  sah.  'As  a  man 
thinks,'  the  Bible  has  it,  sah." 

Orcutt  shook  his  head,   somewhat  belligerently. 

"But  why  haven't  you  seen  me  this  way  before? 
For  I  must  have  been,  some  time  during  the  twenty 
years  you've  lived  with  us,  to  have  learned  the  things 
I  know  now  and  didn't  know  before — by  all  ac- 
counts." 

"Yes,  sah,  you  have  been;  only " 

"Go  on!"  impatiently. 

"We've  not  been  fair  to  you,  Mistah  George," 
said  Jackson,  a  faint  huskiness  in  his  throat.  "No, 
sah;  we  suhtainly  have  not.  The  times  you  were 
away,  sah,  we  always  thought " 

"The  times  I  was  away!  Ah!  And  those,  Jack- 
son? How  often?  When?  Where  did  I  go?" 


THE    WOMAN'S    LAW  89 

"That's  just  it.  No  one  evah  knew  where  you 
went,  sah;  yuh  would  disappear  foh  weeks  at  a 

stretch,  and  we  all  thought "  He  coughed, 

deprecatingly.  "Well,  sah,  we  didn't  think  you 
were  reading  scientific  books  and  doing  serious 
study,  sah." 

"And  I  was." 

"Yes,  sah,  you  were  a-doing  that  very  same.  We 
all  owe  you  considerable  apology,  Mistah  George." 

Orcutt  tapped  his  fingers  against  the  mantel  shelf. 

"Away  from  home  for  weeks  at  a  stretch,"  he 
mused.  "About  how  many  times,  Jackson?  And 
how  long  were  the  periods  between  my  disappear- 
ances, would  you  say?" 

Jackson  meditated  a  little. 

"You  disappeared  several  times  a  year,  sah,  for 
the  past  ten  years." 

"And  everybody  thought  I  was  on  a  debauch 
and  let  me  alone,"  said  Orcutt.  "So  now  nobody 
knows  where  I  was." 

Jackson  bowed  acquiescence. 

"No,  sah,  nobody  knows.  But  yuh  were  busy 
with  some  mighty  interesting  things,  I  see  now,  Mis- 
tah George.  I  overheard  you  talking  about  books 
and  things  at  the  dinner  table,"  he  explained.  "You 
were  a  very  busy  man  while  you  were  away  those 
times,  and  I  think  a — uh " 

"Decent  one,"  completed  Orcutt. 

"Yes,  sah.  But  it's  always  that  way — one  good 
personality,  and  one — uh — one  not  so  good,  sah." 


9o  THE    WOMAN'S    LAW 

"You  seem  well  versed  on  the  subject  of  dual 
personalities,  Jackson.  I  see  that  some  of  the  news- 
papers claim  I'm  faking.  If  so,  I'm  doing  it  pretty 
well— eh?" 

Jackson  chuckled. 

"You  could  always  see  the  funny  side  o'  things; 
you're  like  your  old  self  that  way,  sah." 

"My  old  self "  Orcutt  took  up  the  word. 

"That  old  self  is  a  stranger  to  me,  Jackson,  and 
this  new  self  somewhat  of  a  stranger  to  you,  I 
suppose?"  he  laughed. 

"Yes  and  no,  sah.  You're  different,  of  course, 
sah.  But  I  expected  you  would  be." 

Orcutt  straightened  up. 

"Look  here.  I'm  not  faking.  Get  that  out  of 
your  head,  Jackson." 

"You  misunderstood  me,  Mistah  George," 
returned  Jackson,  with  dignity.  "According  t'  the 
books  on  double  personality,  two  personalities  are 
two  personalities,  whether  they're  in  two  bodies  or 
in  one  body,  sah,  and  it's  natural  to  expect  to  find 
two  men  more  unlike  than  like,  sah." 

"So  I'm  all  right,  according  to  the  rules,"  grinned 
Orcutt.  "I'm  glad  I'm  all  right  according  to  some- 
thing, for  to  myself  I'm  about  the  queerest  fish  in 
five  seas." 

"You'll  get  used  to  yuhself  after  a  little,  Mistah 
George,"  consoled  Jackson.  "And  we-all  will  get 
used  to  you.  The  new  self  is — uh — a  mighty  lik- 
able sort,  sah." 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  91 

Orcutt  laughed,  a  boyish  laugh  of  pleasure. 

"Thank  you,  Jackson.  No,  no  brandy,  and  noth- 
ing more  for  to-night." 

"Good-night,  Mistah  George,"  returned  the  man, 
departing. 

"Wait!" 

Orcutt  held  a  book  in  his  hand. 

"Jackson,  'George  W.  Orcutt'  is  written  on  this 
fly-leaf.  This  isn't  my  writing." 

Jackson  eyed  the  sprawling  hieroglyphics. 

"I  take  it,  sah,  that  you  write  a  close,  fine  hand, 
very  legible.  Isn't  that  right,  sah?"  he  queried,  a 
triumphant  smile  hovering  on  his  lips. 

"Hm!"  chuckled  Orcutt.  "So  that  may  happen, 
too !  You've  gone  pretty  deep  into  double  person- 
ality, I  see,  so  I'll  take  your  word  for  it  that  I'm 
the  simon-pure  article.  I'm  waiting  to  study  it  first- 
hand in  myself." 

Jackson  chuckled  in  answer. 

"It's  suhtainly  funny,  but  each  personality  seems 
always  t'  scorn  the  other  one,  sah.  No  matter  how 
one  personality  does  a  thing,  it's  a  good  guess  that 
the  other'll  do  it  just  the  opposite." 

Orcutt  looked  at  the  title  after  Jackson  left.  La 
Bete  Humalne,  he  read,  and  flung  the  book  savagely 
to  the  floor. 


XIII 

JACKSON  took  his  way  to  the  servants'  dining- 
room.  There  was  the  same  clatter  of  tongues 
as  when  he  left.  Gregory's  voice  reached  him  as 
he  entered  the  lower  hall. 

"Double  personality!  Huh!  It's  just  a  case  of 
a  drunk  Orcutt  and  a  sober  Orcutt.  Seven  months 
on  the  water  wagon  has  made  a  man  of  'im.  Of 
course,  he  looks  different;  the  bloat's  gone  down 
and  his  flabby  muscles  has  tightened.  I  was  on  a 
bat  once  for  a  week,  an'  when  I  was  sobering  up  I 
caught  sight  of  myself  in  the  mirror  an'  mistook 
my  bleary  red  mug  for  a  burglar's  an'  struck  out  my 
fist  and  smashed  the  mirror  to  bits." 

"The  mirror!  Hivins!  Shure  an'  it  was  bad 
luck  it  must  have  brought  ye!" 

"No,  Kitty,  bad  luck  to  the  brewers:  I've  been 
sober  ever  since." 

"But  the  doctor  says  it's  double  personality," 
said  Lottie,  the  parlor-maid.  "Mary  and  I've  been 
reading  up  on  it,  and  it's  straight  goods  that  it  can 
happen;  and  it  fits  Mr.  Orcutt's  case  exactly.  Just 
a  change  from  drunk  to  sober  wouldn't  account  for 

92 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  93 

his  forgetting  about  everything  he  ever  did  and 
everybody  he  ever  knew,  would  it?"  with  asperity. 

"It  might,"  laughed  Bryan.  "If  forgetting 
would  account  for  the  fact  that  he  killed  a  man. 
But  it  won't.  The  double  personality  stunt  does 
the  trick — so,  it's  double  personality,  thickhead." 

"You  think  he's  faking?" 

A  yowl  of  derision  arose. 

"'Ear!  'ear!"  cried  the  footman.  "She  arsks 
if  he's  a-fakin'." 

"Just  a  moment,"  interrupted  Jackson  pleasantly, 
appearing  from  the  shadowed  doorway.  "I've 
known  Mistah  Orcutt  foh  twenty  years.  I  knew 
him  when  he  was  a  boy  and  I  knew  his  father  and 
his  mother  before  him.  No  matter  what  else  he  is, 
he's  honest.  It's  in  the  blood  to  speak  and  act 
straight  from  the  shoulder.  If  he'd  been  one  of  the 
sly  kind  he  could  of  lived  just  as  he  did  and  had 
the  respect  of  his  wife  and  household  at  the  same 
time.  'Assume  a  virtue  if  you  have  it  not,'  was  not 
Mistah  Orcutt's  way.  No;  take  my  word  foh  it, 
he's  not  fakin'.  I've  known  him  when  he  was  sober, 
as  a  child  and  boy,  an'  it's  not  just  that  he's  sober 
that  makes  the  difference  we  see  now.  It's  no  argu- 
ment against  it  to  say  that  we  never  knew  of  a  case 
of  dual  personality.  If  there  wasn't  anything  in 
the  world  but  what  we  know  about  'twould  be  more 
interestin'  to  leave  this  life  an'  take  our  chances 
on " 

"Hell  fire  and  brimstone,"  chortled  Bryan, 


94  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

"That's  the  idea,  though  not  exactly  what  I  was 
goin'  to  say.  Mistah  Orcutt  is  as  much  puzzled 
over  the  change  in  himself  as  we  are.  And  the 
change  goes  deeper  than  just  his  looks  an'  manners. 
He  says  he  shan't  keep  a  valet!  And  he's  sore  on 
his  rooms!  We're  goin'  to  see  new  differences 
every  day.  It's  just  as  the  psychologists  say — two 
men  in  one  body.  An'  the  sooner  we  forget  the 
man  we  knew  an'  get  acquainted  with  the  ways  of 
the  man  that's  upstairs  now,  the  better  he'll  like  it, 
I'm  thinkin'." 

"Now,  yez  ar-re  talkin',"  returned  the  cook.  "An' 
by  phwat  yez  all  say  I'm  glad  it's  this  side  of  him 
an'  not  the  other  I'm  buckin'  me  head  into.  If  he 
plays  fair  by  the  madam  I  shouldn't  think  it  would 
make  any  difference  at  all,  at  all,  how  the  change 
came  about.  I'll  be  dommed  if  I'd  cook  for  a  man 
that'd  leave  her  for  some  hussy.  She's  a  lady, 
which  all  the  high  cracky  dames  ain't,  and  ye  can 
believe  me!  An'  she's  han'some,  which  is  phwat 
more  of  'em  ain't,  an'  ye  can  believe  that,  too !  An* 
it's  no  disputin'  me  I  think  ye'll  be  doin'." 

"To-night's  the  first  dinner  I  ever  knew  him  to 
eat  here,  and  I've  been  here  three  years,"  snickered 
the  up-stairs  girl.  "So  you  wouldn't  had  to  cook 
much  for  him  like  he  was  before.  And  he  didn't 
sleep  here  more'n  once  a  month." 

"There  was  just  one  stage  he  struck,"  Bryan 
laughed,  "when  he  would  make  us  bring  him  home 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  95 

or  fight.  If  we  took  him  to  his  rooms  at  the  Buckley 
he'd  smash  the  furniture  an'  yell  like  a  pirate." 

"We?"  snorted  the  cook.  "An'  does  yez  mean 
you  an'  some  hussy?" 

"His  man.  Where  is  Perkins  now,  Greg?  Didn't 
you  say  you  saw  him  lately?" 

"He's  with  old  Biddington;  was,  a  month  ago." 

Bryan  rose,  still  laughing. 

"I  had  a  reversible  coat  once,  black  on  one  side 
an'  tan  on  the  other.  Didn't  take  the  tan  side  long 
to  get  grimy-looking — the  black  streaked  through 
from  the  other  side  whenever  it  got  wet." 

"An'  yez  thinks  this  Orcutt'll  show  pretty  much 
the  same  color  of  the  old  Orcutt  whin  he  starts  in 
boozin',  and  it's  thinkin'  the  same  I  am  meself," 
said  the  cook. 

"Mistah  Orcutt  isn't  drinkin'  now.  He  gave 
orders  not  to  serve  him  with  any  liquor  whatever," 
announced  Jackson,  loftily. 

"Hell!"  Bryan's  face  was  blank  with  amaze- 
ment. "Well,  anyhow,  it's  the  same  Orcutt;  sooner 
or  later  his  spots'll  show  through." 

Jackson  resumed  authority. 

"Our  business,  I'm  thinkin',  is  to  serve  Mistah 
Orcutt,"  said  he. 

A  figure  glided  swiftly  from  a  recess  hid  by  a 
curtain  outside  the  room  and  out  of  range  of  the 
door.  It  was  Gail.  She  had  played  eavesdropper. 
There  had  been  no  other  way.  She  must  know  what 
was  being  said  in  the  world  downstairs.  She  must 


96  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

know  what  was  going  on  behind  the  inscrutable 
faces  that  would  tell  her  nothing,  not  even  by  the 
glimmer  of  an  eye.  She  sat  down  in  her  room  and 
uttered  a  sigh  of  relief  that  was  almost  a  sob. 
Bryan's  "Well,  anyhow,  it's  the  same  Orcutt,"  was 
a  truth  so  evident  that  he  used  it  to  prove  his  con- 
clusion. No  matter  what  else  they  might  suspect, 
it  would  not  be  the  reality.  The  man  up-stairs  was 
to  them  George  Orcutt,  no  matter  now  what  he 
said  or  did,  nor  how  he  looked  or  acted.  She  went 
to  bed  and  to  sleep.  To-morrow  might  bring  its 
anxieties,  but  to-night  she  should  rest  unafraid. 

Orcutt  went  to  bed,  but  not  at  once  to  sleep,  and 
not  under  the  canopy  embroidered  with  dancing 
houris.  He  had  installed  himself  and  personal  ef- 
fects in  another  suite,  turning  his  back  in  disgust  on 
the  nymphs  and  Bacchantes.  He  could  not  accept 
the  past  that  those  rooms  thrust  so  avowedly  upon 
him.  And  he  had  begun  to  question  his  own  explana- 
tion for  the  change  in  himself.  Hour  after  hour 
he  lay  and  tried  to  find  a  solution  that  would  now 
satisfy  his  mind.  Why  had  he  no  recollection  of 
previous  occurrences  of  his  personality?  In  the 
cases  of  double  personality  on  record  there  was  unity 
within  each  personality  at  least.  It  was  not  strange 
that  number  two,  as  he  termed  his  present  personal- 
ity, did  not  recollect  anything  about  number  one,  the 
"other  George,"  but  surely  it  should  have  some 
memory  of  its  own  previous  occurrences.  And  why 
had  Jackson  never  seen  him  before  as  number  two, 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  97 

but  always  as  number  one?  And  why  had  Gail 
never  known  him  as  he  was  now?  Why ? 

But  he  turned  over  to  sleep  with  a  disgruntled 
groan: 

"Whether  I  feel  the  part  or  not,  I  am  George 
Orcutt.  There's  no  question  as  to  that.  At  some 
stage  of  my  life  I've  been  a  beast,  and  the  sooner  I 
accept  the  disgusting  truth  the  better.  Only " 

But  the  curtain  had  rung  down  on  a  sleeping 
household,  as  tranquil  as  though  the  drama  had 
ended  rather  than  just  begun. 


XIV 

TTANCE  clapped  his  hands  and  laughed  glee- 
fully, a  performance  he  had  done  many  times 
the  past  hour.  His  "papa"  had  just  tied  a  last  glit- 
tering ornament  on  the  topmost  spray  of  the  Christ- 
mas tree,  which  now  stood  fully  bedecked  with  tin- 
sel and  burnishings  and  many-colored  electric  bulbs. 

"Now  for  the  presents,"  cried  the  boy,  his  childish 
treble  shrill  with  excitement.  "I've  got  all  the  lit- 
tle ones  piled  together  for  the  top  branches,  and 
I'm  going  to  climb  up  and  tie  'em  on." 

"Let  Papa  tie  those,  Vance;  you  tie  the  ones  on 
the  lower  branches." 

"But  I  like  the  climbing  up  and  leaning  over  to 

reach  the  places — it's  not  just  the  tying  'em  on " 

cried  the  boy. 

"Would  you  like  to  fall  and  hurt  yourself?" 

"No;  but  he  likes  to  feel  he  might  fall  and  hurt 
himself,  break  an  arm  or  leg — and  then  not  fall," 
said  Orcutt,  with  a  laugh. 

The  man  and  the  boy  looked  at  each  other  and 
both  twinkled  with  a  mirthful  understanding  be- 
tween them.  The  child's  head  was  thrown  slightly 

98 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  99 

back,  his  slight  figure  in  its  white  serge  suit  held 
with  the  dignity  of  a  general,  his  already  flushed 
face  kindling  with  a  new  delight.  He  turned  to 
his  mother. 

"Papa  knows  because  he  was  a  boy  once  him- 
self. He  always  knows,"  he  continued.  "Women 
know  how  girls  feel  'bout  things,  I  guess,  but  they 
just  never  know  exac'ly  how  a  boy  feels."  His 
tone  was  aggrieved.  "And  they  always  say  to  a 
boy,  'You  don't  want  to  do  that' — just  as  though 
they  know  what  he  wants  to  do !" 

"Condemned  by  a  jury  of  my  peers!"  Gail's 
laugh  was  as  gay  as  a  bird's  trill.  "All  right,  Vance. 
But  let  me  warn  you  that  a  broken  arm  feels  worse 
than  the  mumps.  I  know,  I've  had  both." 

"But  I  won't  break  my  arm,"  he  answered  stoutly. 
"The  fun's  in  not  breaking  it,  like  Papa  says." 

"As  Papa  says." 

"As  Papa  says,"   he  repeated  docilely.     "As —     .«. 
Papa — says,"  trying  to  impress  the  correction  on 
his  memory  as  he  had  been  taught.     "Now,  Papa ! 
the  presents!  the  presents!" 

There  were  packages  of  various  sizes  and  shapes, 
two  big  hampers  full,  all  now  of  one  identity  in  their 
white  tissue  and  holly  ribbons.  There  were  pres- 
ents for  each  other,  presents  for  every  one  that 
served  them  in  the  house  and  outside  of  it,  and  for 
many  of  the  relatives  of  these,  presents  for  the 
Lormes  and  other  friends  who  were  to  come  next 
morning  to  help  them  celebrate  the  first  family 


ioo  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

Christmas  tree  of  the  George  Orcutt  household. 
There  had  always  been  presents  for  the  help,  lav- 
ish distributions  of  money  by  the  master  of  the 
house,  and  appropriate  gifts  of  ornaments  and  ap- 
parel by  Vance  and  his  Mama.  And  there  had  al- 
ways been  a  tree  for  the  child  in  the  play-room,  as 
beautiful  as  it  could  be  fashioned.  Christmas  had 
been  kept  always  as  regarded  its  letter,  but  its 
exuberant  spirit  had  not  before  found  a  place  there. 
The  wife's  pride  had  not  allowed  her  to  have  a 
family  tree  with  the  head  of  the  family  so  promi- 
nently absent.  She  could  not  blind  herself  to  its 
irony. 

More  ironical  yet  was  the  present  situation.  But 
not  to  Gail's  present  seeming.  The  "tragedy 
queen"  had  given  place  once  more  to  the  "dryad." 
Her  Latin  inheritance  of  blood  was  upon  her — 
an  excessive  buoyancy  that  made  her  oblivious  to 
all  but  the  joys  of  the  hour.  She  had  been  thus 
for  three  months,  since  the  day  of  Orcutt's  home- 
coming. Free  from  the  suspicions  of  the  servants 
that  she  had  dreaded;  free  from  Doctor  Under- 
wood's suspicions — as  she  believed;  the  new  Orcutt 
accepted  complacently,  even  if  curiously,  by  friends 
and  acquaintances;  Vance  happy  beyond  words; 
and  the  man  playing  his  role  of  friend  to  the  letter ! 
— all  this  provided  an  anaesthesia  that  quieted  her 
fears.  As  people  in  the  throes  of  war  and  disaster 
throw  themselves  with  abnormal  abandon  into 
ephemeral  gaieties,  so  did  Gail  turn  her  back  for 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  101 

the  nonce  on  her  anxieties  and  avidly  embrace  the 
feast  the  gods  in  a  lenient  mood  had  allowed  her. 

She  had  never  known  a  man  like  this  one;  she 
had  not  even  known  that  such  existed.  It  had  been 
her  rather  vague  belief  that  a  man  who  was  inter- 
ested in  the  mysteries  of  the  universe  and  in  prob- 
lems beyond  the  simplest  additions  and  subtractions 
that  life  presents,  was  necessarily  old,  or  fusty,  or 
intolerant  of  ordinary  intellects,  and  excessively 
tiresome  to  live  with.  The  capacity  to  converse 
lightly  on  art  and  music,  the  drama  and  works  of 
current  fiction,  and  to  have  opinions  on  religion, 
had  seemed  to  her  heretofore  to  betray  a  wide  cul- 
ture and  all  the  knowledge  that  was  really  worth 
while  for  people  who  were  not  "queer." 

She  had  been  at  first  bewildered  by  his  conver- 
sation, conversation  not  meant  to  instruct  her,  but  to 
pass  the  time  between  them  that  he  insisted  they 
should  spend  together,  so  many  hours  each  day. 
He  talked  about  the  things  he  knew  best,  the  knowl- 
edge of  which  had  cut  so  deep  into  his  brain  that 
their  tracks  had  withstood  the  shock  that  obliterated 
all  memory  of  purely  personal  experiences.  It  was 
seemingly  no  more  natural  for  him  to  breathe  than 
to  discuss  the  whys  and  wherefores  of  life  and  the 
underpinnings  of  the  world  that  harbored  him.  It 
was  his  matter-of-course  way  of  interjecting  pro- 
fundities into  the  conversation,  and  his  pervasive 
humor,  and  a  delightful  boyish  spontaneity  of  ex- 
pression that  made  it  possible  for  his  interest  in  his 


102  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

subjects  and  something  of  their  tenor  to  "get  across" 
to  Gail.  In  the  beginning  she  was  too  much  in 
doubt  of  her  understanding  to  answer;  soon  she 
had  shyly  questioned;  then  she  had  secretly  bought 
books — books  on  sociology,  psychology,  philosophy 
— and  read  them,  to  her  confusion  more  often  than 
enlightenment.  But  she  gleaned  sufficient  ac- 
quaintance with  the  new  words  and  phrases  to  em- 
bolden her  into  discussion — one-sided  arguments  in 
which  he  bantered,  and  challenged,  and  laughed  at 
her,  yet  meanwhile  clarifying  the  subject  under  con- 
sideration with  simplified  explanations  that  she 
could  not  fail  to  comprehend  in  some  degree. 

It  was  largely  her  excited  delight  in  these  novel 
excursions  of  thought  that  blinded  her  to  the  dan- 
gers of  the  intimacy  they  brought.  Philosophy  and 
science  seemed  such  safe,  impersonal  subjects.  And 
it  was  such  a  new  and  wholly  delightful  sensation 
to  use  her  thinking  powers  that  she  was  absorbed 
in  the  very  novelty  of  it.  She  basked  in  the  warmth 
of  this  strange  and  most  entrancing  friendship,  with- 
out stopping  to  ask  where  it  was  leading  them. 

She  had  grown  to  think  of  him  as  a  relative,  as 
one  who  belonged  by  right  to  the  family.  He  was 
Vance's  father,  not  in  the  flesh,  but  in  spirit.  The 
curious  sensation  that  she  had  felt  when  Vance  first 
called  him  "Papa"  had  passed.  He  was  her  boy's 
godfather — had  come  to  be  her  attitude  of  mind. 
And  "Papa,"  said  by  the  child,  held  a  wholly  dif- 
ferent content  for  her  than  its  correlate  "Mama." 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  103 

But  Vance  had  said  the  two  pregnant  words  so 
many  times  this  Christmas  evening,  had  included 
them  together  so  closely  in  his  holiday  spirit  of 
happiness,  that  even  she,  knowing  the  truth,  be- 
lieved almost  that  the  three  were  one  family. 

It  was  as  though  he  had  always  been  there 

And  would  always  be  there.  He  surrounded  her 
and  Vance  with  such  an  atmosphere  of  being  cared 
for,  was  so  chivalrously  protective!  George  Or- 
cutt's  neglect  had  made  her  peculiarly  appreciative 
of  this  other  man's  courteous  attentions.  And  they 
were  given  so  unconsciously,  as  though  not  to  serve 
her  would  be  the  unnatural  thing.  The  mask  of 
coldness  under  which  she  had  hid  her  misery  as 
George  Orcutt's  wife  had  wholly  melted  away  under 
the  new  Orcutt's  deference  and  homage. 

And  she  had  paraded  him  before  her  world  with 
a  pathetic  pride  in  his  possession — a  husband  who 
honored  her  and  of  whom  she  was  not  ashamed! 
Joy  in  this  revelation  had  mingled  with  even  her  first 
fear  of  discovery.  Which  fear  was  groundless,  she 
soon  found.  Her  world  had  known  George  Orcutt 
only  as  a  name  and  a  position  which  his  wife  bore 
for  him.  The  golden-brown  Vandyke  of  this  man 
placed  him  satisfactorily  in  society's  eyes — the  one 
distinctive  thing  it  had  ever  remarked  about  him; 
that,  and  the  fact  that  he  was  always  intoxicated. 

She  had  found,  also,  that  society,  tradespeople, 
friends,  every  one — save  the  new  Orcutt  himself  and 
some  of  the  servants  who  held  to  the  theory  of  a 


104  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

double  personality — accounted  for  the  change  in 
him  on  the  ground  of  his  now  being  sober.  And  her 
dread  that  his  broad  knowledge  would  arouse  sus- 
picions was  quickly  allayed.  He  had  not  displayed 
his  erudition  to  her  social  friends.  He  was  singu- 
larly silent.  He  conversed  at  length  only  with  her 
and  Doctor  Underwood,  a  matter  that  delighted 
her  personally,  even  outside  the  question  of  his  be- 
traying himself.  That  he  should  talk  to  her  as  an 
intellectual  equal  and  not  merely  as  a  woman  to  be 
prattled  to ! — she  was  as  vain  over  this  as  a  peacock, 
and  laughed  to  herself  over  her  vanity. 

These  things  were  in  her  mind  as  she  helped  to 
dress  the  Christmas  tree — a  treat  that  Vance  had 
insisted  that  only  himself  and  his  Papa  and  Mama 
should  have. 

"The  presents  are  all  on,"  the  child  cried.  "Now, 
Papa,  a  romp!  Let's  see  if  I  can  climb  up  to  your 
shoulder  hand  over  hand." 

Gail  fingered  the  holly  in  her  hair  and  smiled 
tenderly.  How  beautifully  he  helped  Vance  without 
the  child's  knowing  it. 

"There!"  The  man  swung  the  little  figure  in 
the  air,  then  set  him  on  his  feet,  and  pressed  the 
call-bell  for  his  governess  to  come  and  take  him  to 
bed. 

Gail  waited  to  arrange  Vance's  presents,  the  man 
drawing  them  forth  from  their  hiding-places.  She 
stood  a  moment  and  looked  the  tree  over,  then  held 
out  her  hand  to  Orcutt. 


'What  I  want  is  right  here.'  " — Page  705 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  105 

"Good  night.  I  have  still  a  few  things  in  my 
room  to  get  ready."  She  assumed  the  air  of  mys- 
tery that  had  been  Vance's  for  the  past  week  and 
whispered,  "For — you." 

"What  I  want  is  right  here,"  said  he,  and  took 
her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her. 


XV 


TT  was  so  unexpected  that  for  a  moment  she  lay 
unresisting  against  his  breast,  receiving  pas- 
sively the  kisses  that  showered  her  lips. 

Even  when  free  of  his  clasp  she  could  only  stare 
at  him  in  a  sort  of  daze,  and  regret  rather  than 
wrath  was  in  her  low  voice. 

"You  have  broken  our  agreement — Oh!  why  did 
you!" 

"Why?     You  are  my  wife,  and  I  love  you." 

"But  I  do  not  look  on  you  as  a  husband  and  I  do 
not  love  you." 

"Gail!  Don't  say  that!  Why  for  these  three 
months  we  have  been " 

"Three  months!"  she  cried,  forcing  scorn  into  her 
voice.  "You  expect  three  months'  decency  to  drown 
out  of  my  memory  seven  years  of  humiliation,  of  the 
most  brutal  neglect!" 

The  man  walked  the  floor  for  a  few  moments, 
stopped  abruptly  beside  her. 

"I  know  nothing  of  those  seven  years.  Am  I  to 
be  punished  forever  for  the  wrongs  that  I  did  not 
commit?" 

She  was  speechless,  her  eyes  fell  before  his,  a 
106 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  107 

deadly  nausea  seized  her  —  it  seemed  to  her  that 
she  could  not  again  lay  George  Orcutt's  sins  upon 
him. 

"Stop  shivering,  Gail.  I  will  not  touch  you." 
He  spoke  roughly,  then  his  voice  softened.  "For- 
give me  !  I  forgot  that  you  yet  have  your  mem- 
ories, that  you  cannot  so  easily  dissociate  me  from 
my  past.  Zounds!  it's  all  a  muddle.  To  save  me 
I  can't  but  feel  that  I  don't  deserve  your  scorn  — 
Oh,  I  do  —  I  realize  it  when  I  study  my  past  record 
—  only,  I  can't  quite  believe  it's  my  past  record  — 
that's  the  damnable  part  of  it  all." 

He  took  another  turn  about  the  room,  again 
stopped  beside  her. 

"It's  not  my  present  self,  but  the  past  that  stands 
between  us,  the  other  George  —  yes,  dear?" 

"It's  the  other  George,"  she  mumbled.  "He 
stands  between  us  —  and  always  will.  And  always 


"No  !  As  soon  as  you  don't  want  him  to  he 
won't.  Your  pride  won't  let  you  offset  seven  years 
of  neglect  with  a  paltry  three  months  of  devotion. 
You  aren't  sure,  that's  it.  You're  afraid  this  George 
will  go  into  retirement  and  the  other  George  re- 
appear. You're  ashamed  of  having  loved  me  once 
—  you  don't  want  to  be  ashamed  again.  Isn't  that 
it,  my  wife?" 

She  laughed  shakily.  It  was  always  some  one 
else  who  found  the  best  explanation  for  her  con- 
duct. 


io8  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

"I  only  know  that  I'm  afraid,"  she  answered 
truly.  "I  was  beginning  to  trust  you,  and  now " 

"I've  broken  out  of  my  traces  and  you're  afraid 
I  won't  go  back  into  harness  again.  But  I  will — 
for  a  while.  I  can't  promise  how  long.  You're 
my  wife — I'm  mad  with  love  for  you — it's  inevita- 
ble that  sometime But  we'll  be  friends  as  be- 
fore, dear.  Come,  shake  hands  as  you  intended." 

The  face  she  turned  to  him  was  ghastly. 

"It's  the  end.  I  can't  be  friends  with  that  hang- 
ing over  me.  I  must  go  away.  I  leave  it  to  your 
fairness — about — Vance.  He's  my  baby — you — 

you  will  let  me  have  him  half  the  time Oh ! 

you  will,  surely  you  will!" 

His  eyes  were  bewildered.  Then  he  smiled  pity- 
ingly. 

"Why,  Gail,  dear!  I  shall  not  force  you  to  my 
arms,  my  wife.  I'm  not  a  brute,  whatever  the  other 
George  may  have  been.  Come,  forget  what  has 
happened.  We  are  good  friends,  and  shall  be  only 
friends  till  you  want  us  to  be  husband  and  wife 
again." 

"No,  I  must  go  away,"  she  uttered  in  deliberate 
voice.  "I  can  never  be  more  than  friend.  But  you 
will  not  believe — you  will  not  care  at  last  what  I 
want — it  will  be  yourself — I  know  now  that  you  are 
like  all  men.  I  have  been  blind — you — seemed — 
different " 

He  pushed  a  chair  toward  her. 

"Sit    down,"    he    commanded    gently.       "Now, 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  109 

Gail,  try  and  tell  me  what  your  terror  means — 
for  it  is  terror,  and  to  me  out  of  all  pro- 
portion to  any  explanation  you  have  given  me.  For 
three  months  we  have  been  daily  companions,  good 
comrades,  joyous  as  six-year-olds.  Nor  was  it 
friendship  that  caused  our  happiness.  It  was  love, 
Gail,  love!" 

"No!"  The  words  were  carefully  chosen.  "It 
was  not  love — I  loathe  you." 

It  was  the  man's  face  now  that  was  gray.  He 
passed  his  hands  feebly  over  his  eyes,  blinded  by  his 
sudden  misery.  A  moment,  then  a  grimly  sardonic 
smile  curled  his  lips. 

"Let  me  congratulate  you  on  your  perfect  acting," 
he  said  curtly,  but  with  a  note  of  jagged  pain.  "I 
really  believed  that  you  enjoyed  my  society — I 
thought  that  you  wanted  to  be  in  my  arms  as  much 
as  I  wanted  to  have  you  there.  Forgive  me."  He 
bowed  gravely.  "And  good-by.  I  shall  leave  the 
house  after  the  Christmas  festivities  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

"No !    You  must  not  go.    I  must  pay,  not  you !" 

"Pay?  For  what?  For  making  me  think  you 
loved  me?"  A  play  of  humor  mingled  with  the 
glaze  of  pain  in  his  eyes.  "And  why  should  you 
pay  for  my  stupidity,  an  asininity  that  could  mis- 
take— loathing  for  love?" 

She  sprang  up. 

"No!  No!  I  lied.  I  do  not  loathe  you.  I — 
like — you." 


no  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

She  stood  like  a  child,  wistful,  wanting  forgive- 
ness, yet  tremblingly  afraid.  He  regarded  her 
soberly. 

"I'm  afraid  you  did  not  lie,  my  wife.  Your 
terror  bespeaks  loathing  more  than — liking,  I  fear. 
Anyhow,  I  make  you  unhappy.  And  it's  been  no 
easy  matter  for  me  to  stay  quietly  here.  This  life 
of  inactivity  doesn't  suit  me.  Zounds!  I  feel  like 
a  caged  lion.  .  .  .  You  see,  I've  been  so  mad  over 
you  that  I  was  willing  to  be  caged  to  be  near  you, 
to  see  you — to  win  you.  But  you  say  I  can  never 
win  you,  that  I  must  always  stay  at  arm's  length. 
So,  it  is  better  good-by  now,  isn't  it?" 

"And  you  would  go — where?"  she  whispered. 

"I  think  I  shall  go  first  to  Colorado  and  see 
Father's  relatives.  I  should  like  to  find  out  more 
about  my  family  than  you  seem  able  to  tell  me. 
Jackson  says  that  Aunt  Maria  was  with  us  during 

most  of  my  boyhood Surely,  she  could  throw 

some  light  on  the  very  mysterious  change  in  my- 
self." 

She  gripped  the  chair's  back. 

"Vance,"  she  mumbled.  "It  would — break  his 
heart  for  you  to  leave — now.  The  doctor  thinks 
that  he  will  have  to  be  operated  on  for  his 
throat He  would  want  you  here " 

He  folded  his  arms  and  stood  in  meditation. 

"No,"  he  uttered  at  length.  "I  can't  stay.  Ac- 
tions speak  louder  than  words,  and  your  terror  of 
me  is  not  compatible  with — liking.  If  my  touch  is 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  in 

so  repugnant  to  you  that  you  would  give  up  Vance 
for  half  the  time  rather  than  endure  it,  I  should 
be  a  monster  to  stay  on  here  and  keep  you  in  daily 
dread  of  another  outbreak." 

"But  if  we  could  be  just  friends " 

"I  couldn't,  Gail,  not  for  long.  If  we  were  a 
young  man  and  a  young  woman  with  no  tie  between 
us,  I  could,  even  to  the  fourteen  years  that  Jacob 
served  for  Rachel.  But  you  are  my  wife,  you  are 
the  mother  of  my  child.  Knowing  this  and  loving 
you  as  I  do " 

uBut  when  you  know  I — don't  want — you " 

He  laughed  grimly. 

"Your  portrayal  of  friend  is  rather  misleading. 
I'm  afraid  I  shouldn't  know  any  better  another 
time  what  you  want,  Gail.  With  due  allowance  for 
egotism,  and  for  my  own  love  and  desire  blinding 
me,  I  should  yet  have  sworn  it  was  love  I  saw  in 
your  eyes — not  loathing,  not  liking — but  love !  and 
again  and  again.  My  patience — for  so  it  seems  to 
me — was  occasioned  by  fear  of  myself,  not  of  your 
reception  of  my  caresses.  Wait!  you  misunderstand. 

Not  fear  of  my  affection  for  you,  but  fear  that 

Yes,  Gail,  that  this  T  should  give  place  to  the  other 
personality,  the  George  that  had  hurt  you.  I  waited 
to  test  myself,  to  try  to  be  sure  that  I  should  not 
again  betray  your  faith." 

She  stared  up  at  him  in  a  sort  of  horror.  She 
had  been  envying  him  his  peace  of  mind  while  he 


ii2  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

was  silently  groaning  and  writhing  under  the  re- 
volting past  she  had  fastened  upon  him ! 

His  brooding  gravity  gave  place  to  sudden  mirth. 

"Gail,  the  other  George  should  make  me  shud- 
der, but  frankly  he's  too  unreal  for  me  to  take  seri- 
ously. His  amusements,  his  friends,  his  ladies — I 
can  no  more  believe  that  they  ever  interested  any 
phase  of  me  than  that  the  sun  is  inhabited.  Mud- 
dled as  everything  is  I  yet  know  that  that  George 
will  never  'come  back.'  ' 

"You  have  seen — them?" 

"All."  He  smiled  humorously.  "So  Kessell  tells 
me,  and  he  seems  to  have  been  very  much  in  the 
other  George's  confidence.  Dear,  it  couldn't  have 
been  that  I  neglected  you  for  them."  He  suddenly 
changed  to  gravity  again.  "Ah!  no  wonder  you 

loathe  me,  believing  that  I But  no !  it  wasn't 

I — you  know  that Oh  God!  this  mystery!" 

He  held  out  his  hand. 

"Let  it  be  good-by  now,  Gail.  I'll  slip  off  in  the 
morning  while  Vance's  busy  with  his  presents." 

"You  won't  leave — Vance " 

"A  child  forgets  quickly." 

"But " 

"Stop !  You  ask  me  to  chain  my  emotions,  stay 
like  a  muzzled  dog  by  the  side  of  a  wife  that  shud- 
ders if  I  touch  her!"  His  eyes  met  hers  squarely. 
"I'm  not  the  sort  to  take  a  kick  and  grovel  for 
another." 

She  swayed  unsteadily.     He  must  not  go  to  Col- 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  113 

orado.  Aunt  Maria  was  not  of  a  disposition  to 
tolerate  a  mystery.  In  some  way  she  would  dis- 
cover the  truth.  She  knew  every  feature,  every 
distinctive  mark,  every  blemish  and  beauty  of  body 
of  the  real  George  Orcutt.  She  would  not  be  satis- 
fied with  hypotheses  nor  enraptured  with  her  own 
nor  any  one's  else  explanation  unless  it  really  ex- 
plained. No,  he  must  not  go.  Yet — could  she  de- 
ceive him  again,  play  with  his  affections? 

Yes;  for  already  she  heard  her  voice  making 
sweetly  appealing  sounds! 

"I  don't  want  you  to  go — I,  too,  have  been  happy 
these  three  months — it  is  only  that  I  can't  yet  for- 
get and  am  afraid.  For — my  sake — won't  you  stay 
and  be  friends  a  while  longer " 

"Gail!  Gail!"  His  voice  was  rapturous.  "We 
will  be  only  friends,  dear,  till  you  do  believe  in  me. 

And  you  must  believe  in  me There  is  no  other 

George  Orcutt,  beloved.  /  am  your  husband,  the 
image  you  hold  was  an  interloper.  Please,  dear, 

say  'George,  I '  '  He  stopped.  "Gail,  you 

have  never  called  me  'George.'  Why?" 

"Because  I  called  him  that,"  she  cried  impul- 
sively. 

He  laughed,  with  boyish  happiness. 

"I  must  have  a  name,  dear.  A  name  from  you 
will  make  a  priceless  Christmas  present."  He  bent 
over  her.  "What  shall  you  call  me,  my  wife?" 

"Friend,"  she  answered  soberly. 


n4  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

"Friend?  I  don't  need  a  constant  reminder  of 
our  pact,  Gail !" 

She  looked  steadily  into  his  grieved  eyes. 

"Please  let  me  call  you  'friend,'  "  she  said  wist- 
fully. "More  than  husband  or  lover  or  anything 
else  in  the  world,  I  need  a  friend." 

There  was  no  acting  now.  She  was  pathetically 
in  earnest.  She  held  out  her  hand. 

"Good  night,  Friend." 

"Good  night,  my  wife,"  he  answered  simply. 


XVI 

TT  was  two  weeks  later.  Doctor  Underwood 
was  visiting  Orcutt  in  his  room,  a  common  oc- 
currence. The  doctor  partly  reclined  on  a  wide 
leather  couch,  his  elbow  jabbed  in  a  pillow  sup- 
porting his  head,  feet  on  the  floor.  His  host  sat 
near  in  a  leather  rocker,  sunk  heavily  to  its  soft 
depths.  Both  were  smoking. 

"So,  that's  why  I  didn't  get  the  Psyche  I  hinted 
for  so  diligently  for  Christmas?  And  why  you 
have  closed  your  old  rooms  and  occupy  these  in- 
stead? You  feel  that  those  things  are  not  yours 
to  disturb  nor  give  away.  Um-m!" 

The  alienist  chuckled  during  this  commentary, 
but  his  keen  eyes  behind  the  broad  spectacles  were 
bright  with  anticipation,  his  nostrils  quivered  like 
a  beagle  hound's  on  a  scent. 

The  younger  man's  face  behind  the  thick  smoke 
of  his  cigar  held  a  rueful  smile. 

"I've  said  the  'other  George'  so  often  that  I've 
grown  possessed  of  an  uncanny  feeling  that  he's 
objective — a  person  outside  this  carcass  of  mine. 
Zounds! — Underwood,  I  never  write  my  name  to 

115 


u6  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

a  check  that  something  doesn't  pull  so  hard  from 
the  inside  of  me  that  I  feel  like  a  forger.  Houses, 
servants,  all  this  rank  luxury,  seem  the  other  George 
Orcutt's,  not  mine.  To  save  my  buttons  I  can't  get 
the  feel  of  ownership." 

"Um-m!     And  your  wife  and  child?" 

"Gail?  Vance?"  His  brows  knit.  Then  he 
laughed,  a  low  rumble  of  mirth  peculiar  to  him. 
"They're  mine.  And  only  mine,  Underwood.  The 
feeling  of  ownership  is  good  and  strong  there.  But 
Gail's  my  wife,  Vance's  my  child,  through  and  by 
myself,  not  as  an  inheritance  from  the  other  George. 
Which  shows  the  absurdity  of  my  emotional  atti- 
tudinizing. I  feel  that  the  pictured  harem  across 
the  hall  is  the  other  George's  and  that  I  have  no 
right  to  disturb  it.  I  also  feel  that  Gail's  my  wife 
and  never  has  and  never  could  have  belonged  to 
that  beast." 

The  doctor  twinkled  till  the  rolls  of  fat  under- 
neath almost  hid  his  eyes. 

"Beast — eh?  That's  the  way  you  speak  of  your- 
self?" 

"Myself?"     With  quick  wrath.     "That  libertine 

never  inhabited Oh  the  devil!     Can't  I  stop 

the  lunacy  of  disowning  my  own  past!" 

The  alienist  raised  himself  from  his  pillow  and 
sat  upright. 

"There  is  no  absurdity,  Orcutt,  in  your  feeling  of 
ownership  of  your  wife  and  child  and  of  nothing 
else.  It  is  simply,  that  of  all  the  possessions  of 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  117 

the  other  'you,'  your  wife  and  child  are  all  that  the 
'you'  of  to-day  would  voluntarily  choose." 

"For  heaven's  sake,  say  the  other  George;  the 
other  'you'  seems  too  personal.  I  have  a  certain  re- 
spect for  my  body;  it's  obnoxious  to  think  it's  a 
common  possession  of  myself  and  a  blackguard." 

"It  is  not  just  the  body  one  might  expect  to  re- 
ceive from  a  debauchee,"  returned  the  physician 
with  seeming  carelessness.  "Muscular,  symmetrical, 
healthful,  it's  the  sort  one  might  inherit  from  an 
outdoors  man  of  simple  tastes  and  habits." 

The  other  man  shook  the  ashes  viciously  from 
his  cigar. 

"It's  all  a  rotten  muddle!  Outdoors  man?  Un- 
derwood, that's  what  I  am.  House  life  is  getting 
on  my  nerves.  I'll  close  the  door  on  George  Or- 
cutt's  past  some  day  as  I  have  on  that  room  and  cut 
for  the  open." 

"And  Mrs.  Orcutt? — shall  you  leave  or  take 
her?" 

"You  old  quizzerl  Why  does  it  always  seem  to 
interest  you  so  greatly  how  I  get  along  with  my 
wife?  Well,  for  once  I  shall  answer  you.  My  wife 
is  hysterically  afraid  of  me.  I  kissed  her  Christ- 
mas eve  and  she  was  in  a  blue  funk  of  terror,  threat- 
ened to  leave  the  house  forever  if  I  as  much  as 
laid  a  finger  on  her  again,  sentimentally,  that  is." 

The  doctor's  huge  body  jerked  itself  up  from 
the  sofa  where  it  was  again  reclining. 


n8  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

"You  mean  Christmas  eve  was  the  first  time  you 
kissed  her?" 

"And  the  last,  probably.  Despite  my  insistent 
belief  in  my  respectability  the  fact  remains  that  my 
body  has  housed  a  homicide  and  all-round  rake. 
Unfortunately,  my  wife  hasn't  lost  her  memory." 

"Then  make  her  lose  it,"  commanded  the  physi- 
cian. "If  she's  your  wife  then  let  her  be  your  wife." 

"Easier  said  than  done  with  a  wife  that  shud- 
ders at  the  approach  of  my  caresses  as  a  gazelle 
might  at  a  gorilla's!  ....  Gorilla? — Gorilla?" 
he  repeated  slowly.  "Go-ril-la?" 

He  trembled  violently,  sprang  to  his  feet,  stood 
clutching  the  air. 

"Underwood,  help  me  to  remember,"  he  en- 
treated piteously,  turning  dazed  eyes  on  his  friend. 
"Ah!"  half  falling  to  his  chair.  "It's  gone — the 
door  closed  before — I — could — look — in." 

"What  door?"  The  alienist's  quiet  voice  hid  a 
palpitating  excitement. 

"Memory's  door.  It  seemed  for  an  instant  that 
something — great — was  going  to  happen." 

"Something  great  has  happened;  memory  has 
stirred,"  muttered  the  alienist  under  his  breath. 

"Underwood,"  came  in  sharp  tones,  "why  should 
that  particular  word  have  been  a  touchstone? — or 
seemed  for  the  moment  to  be?" 

"God  knows !"  returned  the  alienist.  "I'm  only  a 
doctor.  You  might  make  a  study  of  gorillas;  they're 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  119 

interesting  in  themselves.  By  the  way,  have  you 
found  me  a  picture  of  yourself  before  your  illness?" 

With  brows  still  drawn  with  labored  thought 
Orcutt  opened  a  drawer  of  the  desk  by  which  he 
sat  and  handed  out  a  pasteboard  box. 

UA  boxful.  I  ran  across  them  in  the  storeroom 
Wednesday  while  looking  for  a  mechanical  toy 
Vance  wanted  and  thought  was  there.  The  other 
George  liked  to  pose  before  the  camera.  I  don't. 
The  usual  consistent  difference,  you  see." 

The  alienist  gave  him  a  quick  glance,  then  at- 
tacked the  photographs  and  left  him  to  his  own 
thoughts.  His  method  with  his  patient  was  indirec- 
tion. He  carefully  nursed  all  his  mental  gropings 
while  apparently  insensible  of  them;  and  he  re- 
frained from  interjecting  into  the  conversation  his 
own  ideas  on  the  subject  ever  uppermost  in  Orcutt's 
mind — the  mysterious  change  in  himself.  He  was 
a  man  as  well  as  alienist  and  he  knew  that  Orcutt 
needed  a  friend  to  bare  his  troubled  thoughts  to, 
and  that  as  friend  he  could  learn  much  more  of  the 
workings  of  his  mind  than  he  could  as  a  specialist 
professionally  viewing  him  in  the  light  of  a  "study." 

"Gone!"  he  heard  Orcutt  exclaim  dejectedly. 
Then  heard  him  rise  and  walk  restlessly  from  ob- 
ject to  object  in  the  room. 

With  the  exclamation  Orcutt  temporarily  discon- 
tinued rapping  upon  memory's  closed  door.  He  was 
thinking  of  his  wife.  Since  their  renewed  pact  of 
friendship  she  had  been  as  gracious  and  gay  as  be- 


120  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

fore,  only  it  was  a  simulated  gaiety,  a  graciousness 
measured  exactly  to  the  need  of  the  occasion.  Fear 
of  him  lay  just  beneath  her  friendliness,  its  palpi- 
tations never  allayed  sufficiently  for  her  eyes  to 
meet  his  in  the  careless  joyousness  of  the  past 
months.  The  belief  constantly  intruded  itself  that 
she  was  dextrously  baiting  him,  releasing  her  sweet- 
ness only  to  a  length  where  she  could  recover  it  with 
a  slight  effort — yet  releasing  it  enough  to  keep  him 
hovering  near.  Why,  he  asked  himself  again  and 
again,  did  she  trouble  herself  to  keep  such  an  evi- 
dently burdensome  person  around?  If  egotism  had 
deluded  him  into  thinking  hitherto  that  her  eyes 
were  love-laden,  it  did  not  so  delude  him  now.  He 
had  grown  skeptical  of  any  feeling  she  displayed 
toward  him  except  fear. 

And  he  loved  her  so  fully — her  curving  slender- 
ness,  her  smile  of  witchery,  her  unfathomable  eyes, 
her  melodic  voice,  the  mobile  mind,  the  wit  that 
sparred  so  nimbly,  the  motherly  solicitations  over 
his  son,  the  exquisite  femininity  of  her  lovely,  grace- 
ful person — every  attribute  of  body  and  of  mind 
was  simply  adorable  to  him.  He  had  tasted  Para- 
dise when  he  held  her  to  his  heart  and  kissed  her. 
If  he  were  given  the  choice  of  the  gifts  of  the  uni- 
verse it  would  be  his  wife's  love  he  would  demand. 
And  she  shuddered  at  his  touch!  shuddered  as 
though  he  were  a  hissing  rattler!  And  he  could 
not  bring  the  "other  George's"  past  near  enough 
home  to  feel  that  it  stood  between  them.  He  was 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  121 

entirely  himself,  the  other  George  so  alien,  that  he 
was  impelled  to  the  distasteful  conclusion  that  it 
was  he,  himself,  now,  that  was  repugnant  to  her. 
He  loved  her  and  she  loathed  him! 

His  miserable  cogitations  were  interrupted  by  the 
doctor's  terse: 

"Does  Mrs.  Orcutt  know  that  you  have  these 
photographs?" 

"No,"  he  returned  drily.  "It's  not  good  form  to 
do  anything  for  oneself  here.  I  should  have  sent  a 
lackey  to  get  Vance's  toy." 

"She  said  there  was  no  picture  of  her  husband  in 
the  house."  The  doctor's  voice  was  carefully  un- 
critical. 

"Yes,"  absently. 

"Then  she  couldn't  have  known  these  were  in  the 
storeroom?" 

"No,  of  course.  She  has  ordered  them  destroyed 
and  Jackson — I  am  sure  it  was  Jackson — has  saved 
them.  He  has  been  in  the  family  a  long  while  and 
has  the  old  retainer's  devotion  to  even  a  black  sheep. 
Then  he  seems  to  have  a  mania  for  ticketing  things. 
That  storeroom  is  quite  a  wonder  in  its  way:  no 
confusion,  no  careless  dropping  of  things  anywhere 
and  everywhere.  Everything  is  shelved  and  labelled 
like  an  apothecary's  shop." 

Underwood  reached  for  a  small  leather  bag  he 
had  with  him. 

"I  shall  take  these  with  me,"  said  he,  depositing 
them.  "I  want  you  to  go  right  away  and  sit  for 


122  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

your  picture.  Have  an  exact  profile,  left  face  view, 
cabinet  size.  Come  to  me  when  you  get  the  proofs, 
don't  wait  for  the  finishing  process." 

Orcutt  turned  upon  him  quickly.  "What  is  it?" 
he  demanded.  "Have  you  found  a  key  to  our  Ba- 
conian cryptogram?" 

"How  could  that  be?"  chuckled  the  other. 

Orcutt's  face  was  curiously  grave. 

"For  a  month  you've  been  after  a  picture;  you've 
had  me  search  those  rooms  over  there  till  my  head 
ached  with  looking.  I  asked  Mrs.  Lorme,  all  our 
friends,  er — everybody." 

"And  you  found  none,"  returned  the  alienist,  still 
chuckling.  "You  were  informed  in  each  case  that 
Mrs.  Orcutt  had  been  before  you  and  had  obtained 
the  likeness,  when  there  was  any.  And  each  time 
on  the  plea  that  she  desired  to  have  it  for  her  son. 
She  informed  you  that  it  was  to  destroy  them.  Why, 
please,  should  she  desire  George  Orcutt's  pictures 
on  either  plea?  As  long  as  the  original  lives  it 
seems  folly  to  entail  so  much  trouble  and  humilia- 
tion to  destroy  mere  presentations.  I  think  Mrs. 
Orcutt's  explanation  shows  lack  of  her  usual  per- 
spicacity. It  doesn't  explain — even  to  you,  fully  as 
the  wool  is  over  your  eyes." 

"You  don't  like  Mrs  Orcutt.  Why,  Under- 
wood?" 

"Say,  rather,  I  like  you  and  am  indifferent  to  Mrs. 
Orcutt,"  was  the  jocular  reply.  "You'd  be  as 
wrathy  if  I  liked  her  too  well  as  too  little.  No 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  123 

pleasing  a  husband  in  love  I've  found."  He  laughed 
broadly,  gripped  his  friend's  hand  and  departed  on 
the  words:  "Say  nothing  to  her  about  these' pho- 
tographs or  the  one  you  sit  for.  No — don't  ask 
me  why." 


XVII 

T  NFECTED  with  something  of  the  doctor's  ex- 
citement  Orcutt  started  at  once  for  a  photogra- 
pher's. There  was  a  pleasurable  thrill  in  connec- 
tion with  something  definite  to  do.  At  first  he  had 
been  absorbed  in  the  multitudinous  interests  of  the 
city.  He  viewed  it  as  one  who  had  not  known  it 
before.  It  was  new,  strange,  delightful,  wonderful 
in  all  its  aspects.  Nothing  seemed  beyond  his  at- 
tention. Museums  and  art  galleries,  factories  and 
sweat  shops,  Fifth  Avenue  and  Third  Avenue,  the 
wharves  and  ocean  steamers,  bridges  and  tunnels, 
and  every  race  of  the  conglomerate  peoples,  had 
interested  him  in  surpassing  degree.  He  had  at- 
tacked each  with  the  voracious  hunger  of  one  who 
had  waited  for  just  such  a  feast. 

There  had  been,  too,  a  stranger's  curious  zest  in 
contemplating  theatrical  and  operatic  productions. 
A  boyish  buoyancy  exuded  from  him  as  he  sat  in 
the  Orcutt  box  at  the  opera  and  viewed  the  gor- 
geous spectacle  of  the  stage  and  the  gorgeous  spec- 
tacle of  the  boxes.  Only  that  his  culture  was  so 
evident,  and  that,  strangely  intermingled  with  his 

124 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  125 

simple  bearing,  was  an  impressive  air  of  distinction, 
Gail  would  have  believed  this  his  first  experience  of 
the  world  of  drama  and  fashion.  Even  his  icono- 
clastic criticisms  were  those  of  one  who  had  not  been 
educated  to  the  conventions  of  the  stage  rather  than 
of  one  who  had  broken  away.  There  seemed  to  be 
a  beam  of  truth  in  his  eyes  that  spotlighted  incon- 
gruities, unrealities,  overripeness  at  a  glance.  Some- 
times scornful,  but  oftener  good-naturedly  satirical, 
was  his  general  attitude  toward  plays,  tearing  them 
to  pieces  with  a  subtle  humor  that,  for  the  first 
time  since  Gail's  girlhood,  made  theater-going  a  real 
joy. 

Orcutt  liked  grand  opera,  the  music  and  the  spec- 
tacular magnificence  of  stage  settings  and  scenery 
afforded  him  undisguised  delight.  But  after  read- 
ing an  English  translation  of  //  Trovatore  he  de- 
clined to  enlighten  himself  further  as  to  the  words 
of  an  opera — his  terse  verdict  being  that  it  was 
grand  opera  only  when  he  didn't  know  what  they 
were  singing,  that  the  banalities  of  the  words  made 
it  comic  opera,  and  the  only  really  comic  opera  he 
had  yet  encountered. 

The  city  and  its  attractions  had  not  lost  interest 
for  him.  But  it  was  no  longer  new;  he  was  not 
driven  onward  by  curiosity,  impelled  out  of  him- 
self. And  he  had  ceased  to  expect  pleasure  from 
intercourse  with  the  social  friends  he  had  fallen 
heir  to.  The  "other  George's"  intimates  had  been 
dropped  after  a  first  meeting,  a  cessation  of  friend- 


126  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

ship  as  agreeable  to  them  as  to  him,  the  new  version 
of  George  Orcutt  being  too  puzzling  for  the  sport- 
ing set  of  the  old  version  to  solve.  He  and  they 
both  knew  after  one  evening  that  he  was  not  now 
one  of  them.  Nor  did  he  fit  much  better  in  his 
wife's  circle  of  acquaintances.  They  found  pleas- 
ure in  things  so  foreign  to  his  tastes  that  he  could 
only  look  on  somewhat  stupidly,  wondering  wearily 
how  mature  men  and  women  could  continue  a  round 
of  cards  and  dancing  and  theater-going  that  seemed 
never  to  end.  Any  way  he  turned  he  was  a  square 
peg  in  a  round  hole.  Outside  of  Doctor  Under- 
wood and  the  Lormes  he  made  no  friendships.  He 
accompanied  his  wife  to  social  functions  with 
amused  toleration  for  her  desire  to  do  things  that 
bored  her.  He  pondered  the  question  whether  or 
not  all  the  social  butterflies  he  saw  were  bored,  each 
accepting  this  kind  of  martyrdom  because  it  had, 
by  some  peculiar  evolutionary  process,  become  the 
proper  thing;  his  decision  being  that  the  majority 
for  some  mysterious  reason  liked  small  talk  and  suf- 
focating rooms  and  parading  themselves  like  pea- 
cocks before  the  others. 

And  he  could  not  shake  off  the  haunting  sensa- 
tion that  he  should  be  about  his  work  and  be  done 
with  playing  and  sight-seeing.  Yet  there  was  no 
work  George  Orcutt  had  ever  done!  His  life  had 
been  all  play! 

On  his  return  from  the  photographer's  two  hours 
later,  Gail's  voice  called  from  the  drawing-room: 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  127 

"Hello!     I'm  in  here." 

Firelight  from  blazing  logs  illumined  the  circle 
wherein  she  sat;  around  her  were  dusky  corners  and 
deep  shadows  cast  by  the  furniture.  She  occupied 
a  tall,  elaborately  carved  chair,  sitting  in  it  very 
upright.  She  was  already  dressed  for  dinner  and 
the  opera,  wearing  a  gown  resplendent  with  tur- 
quoise and  golden  spangles;  diamonds,  rainbow- 
hued  from  the  playing  firelight,  adorned  her  bare 
neck  and  arms.  His  eyes  passed  by  the  splendors 
of  her  apparel,  and  rested  on  the  elfish  beauty  of 
her  face. 

"Where  have  you  been  just  now?"  she  questioned, 
after  he  was  seated. 

"I  thought  I  heard  Vance  admonished  this  morn- 
ing," he  returned  deftly.  "Or — no,  it  couldn't  have 
been." 

"Vance?  Admonished?"  She  was  quite  blank  a 
moment.  "Oh! — and  you  think  I  should  profit  by 
my  own  preachment  and  not  ask  questions?" 

"Oh,  no,  I  like  such  wifely  questions,  they  savor 
so  of  the  conjugal  that  I'm  filled  with  bliss.  I've 
just  had  a  hair-cut — perhaps  Joan  will  tell  Darby 
whether  it's  satisfactory."  He  was  laughing,  in 
open  banter. 

"Why  do  you  talk  so  flippantly  of  late?"  she  ar- 
raigned. "I  wish  you  would  be  more  as  you — used 
—to " 

"More  wifely  remonstrance !  Positively,  you'll 
be  selecting  my  neckties  next." 


128  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

"Your  wit  is  descending,"  laughed  she. 

"Wit?"  He  smiled.  "I  talk  nonsense  because 
I  feel  serious.  You  don't  like  me  when  I'm  seri- 
ous." 

"Please  be  nice,"  she  coaxed,  leaning  toward  him 
a  little  and  smiling  wistfully. 

"I'll  try,"  returned  he,  his  eyes  dwelling  tenderly 
upon  her.  "How  would  you  like  me  to  take  a  job 
as  park  gardener?  Wait!  I'm  only  attacking  a 
serious  proposition  obliquely.  The  call  of  work 
is  dinning  in  my  ears  and  I've  found  nothing  that 
appeals  to  me  quite  as  much  as  working  in  the  park. 
Business,  the  professions,  clerical  work,  the  arts,  I 
don't  seem  to  warm  up  to  any  of  them.  Now,  I 
can't  don  overalls  and  keep  the  park  tidy  for  my 
wife's  enjoyment.  Convention  forbids  that  spon- 
taneous and  wholesome  expression  of  myself." 

"We'll  go  to  Mamaroneck  in  May,"  she  replied 
quickly.  "You  can  boat  and  play  tennis,  be  out  of 
doors  all  day." 

"You  don't  understand,  Gail.  I  want  work.  I'm 
aching  for  it."  He  doubled  up  his  right  arm.  "I 
want  to  work  with  that.  The  sight  of  men  digging 
sewers  makes  me  green  with  envy." 

"Work  with  your — arms!  You — George — 
never " 

"I  know,"  brusquely.  "The  other  George  never 
worked  with  his  arms  or  his  brain  either.  I've 
worked  with  both.  When,  God  knows !" 

Gail's  hands  played  together  nervously.     She  did 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  129 

not  know  just  how  to  meet  this  new  complication. 

The  man  looked  at  her  quizzically. 

"You  were  a  queen  a  moment  ago,  sitting  regally 
on  your  throne;  now  you're  a  dazed  little  girl — 
why,  my  wife?" 

"You  ask  why,"  she  retorted,  laughing  shakily. 
"Isn't  it  enough  to  daze  me  to  hear  you  talk  about 
digging — sewers  ?  Ugh !" 

"Knowing  the  other  George  it  is  rather  startling 
doctrine  for  you  to  hear,"  he  admitted  with  a  smile. 

"And  one  I  must  brood  over,"  she  answered. 
"Let  your  mind  dwell  on  opera  while  you're  dress- 
ing." ' 

"A  more  manly  occupation,  eh?" 

She  flushed,  yet  said: 

"More  congruous  with  your  position,  certainly. 
George  Orcutt  as  day  laborer  would " 

"Truly  disgrace  the  untarnished  name,"  he  in- 
terpolated, a  touch  of  temper  in  his  voice.  "I've 
no  intention  of  making  you  ridiculous  in  an  attempt 
to  exercise  my  muscles.  If  possible,  I'm  willing  to 
stay  within  the  limits  of  respectability  as  you  see 
it.  I  have  a  truly  humble  desire  to  please  my  dear 
lady.  But  there  are  too  many  closed  doors  of  emo- 
tion; some  one  must  soon  burst  through."  His 
face  lighted  with  humor.  "Wife  or  work  is  the 
slogan." 

"Alliterative,"  she  mocked  gaily. 

"More  alliterative  than  true."  His  voice  grew 
heavy  with  purpose.  "It  is  wife  and  work." 


130  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

"Go  now,"  she  commanded  lightly. 
He  rose  and  stood  looking  down  at  her.     Then 
he  turned  her  face  back  and  kissed  her  on  the  lips. 
"Wife  and  work,"  he  repeated. 


XVIII 

A  WEEK  passed. 

Gail  endeavored  to  be  deeply  offended,  and 
to  show  Orcutt  that  she  was.  Only — it  is  hard  to 
transmit  resentment  where  there  is  none.  As  her 
husband  he  had  done  nothing  unforgivable.  And 
to  himself  he  was  her  husband.  And  a  most  con- 
siderate, tender,  adoring  husband,  her  heart  had  to 
acknowledge.  It  did  more  than  acknowledge,  it 
thrilled  warmly  because  of  this — queer,  delicious 
thrills. 

They  were  together  the  larger  part  of  every  day. 
She  had  left  off  going  to  a  number  of  social  affairs. 
He  was  not  interested,  she  had  soon  learned.  She 
must  keep  him  contented  with  his  life  here,  was 
her  explanation  to  herself  for  studying  his  wishes. 
To  this  end  she  sat  beside  him  and  did  embroidery 
work  while  he  read  to  her.  She  took  up  horseback 
riding  so  that  she  could  accompany  him  and  Vance 
on  their  mornings'  outings.  She  resumed  her  music, 
playing  and  singing  the  ballads  and  ditties  that  he 
and  Vance  liked.  She  was  girlishly  eager  for  in- 
struction, often  poring  over  a  book  till  he  laughingly 


132  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

reprimanded  her  for  "cramming"  and  took  it  from 
her  hands. 

It  was  easy  to  see  why  he  loved  her.  And  in  his 
ignorance  of  the  real  situation  her  ardent  interest 
in  him  could  have  but  one  meaning — that  his  love 
was  fully  returned.  That  love  would  conquer  her 
distrust  of  him  he  had  no  doubt.  He  humored  her 
whim  to  remain  friends  only  because  he  had  an 
idealistic  conception  of  marriage — it  was  the  wife's 
arms  that  should  first  be  open.  But  to-day  Doctor 
Underwood  had  spoken  to  him  professionally  and 
told  him  that  he  must  subdue  his  wife's  fears  now, 
before  they  became  an  obsession.  The  doctor  had 
been  curiously  insistent.  He  had  not  given  the  ad- 
vice lightly,  to  be  taken  or  left  as  Orcutt  chose.  He, 
the  physician,  had  issued  the  command  arbitrarily, 
and  had  invoked  Orcutt's  promise  before  he  could 
be  made  to  dismiss  the  subject.  Orcutt  was  some- 
what puzzled.  Morris  Underwood  had  always 
seemed  to  dislike  Gail.  But  his  interest  now  was 
for  her — "For  your  wife's  sake" — "In  fairness  to 
Mrs.  Orcutt,"  he  had  stated,  and  emphatically,  ur- 
gently, even  impassionedly. 

It  was  a  clear,  sunny  day.  Gail  was  in  the  con- 
servatory. She  had  a  pair  of  embroidery  scissors 
and  a  silver  fish-fork.  For  a  half-hour  she  had  been 
busy,  snipping  off  dying  leaves,  loosening  the  earth 
around  the  plants  in  boxes  and  tubs.  She  was  not 
sure  she  was  doing  the  work  well.  Her  face  was 
flushed  with  exertion  and  anxiety  over  just  which 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  133 

leaves  should  come  off,  and  just  how  deeply  she 
could  safely  thrust  in  the  fork.  She  had  never 
thought  about  working  with  flowers — till  he  came. 
The  conservatory  was  one  of  the  two  places  in  the 
house  that  seemed  to  content  him;  the  other  was 
the  sun-parlor.  Michael  and  he  had  long  conversa- 
tions about  the  plants,  and  Michael,  usually  silent 
and  jealous  of  interference,  was  loquacious  and  ex- 
pansively hospitable  to  Orcutt.  He  liked  Mrs.  Or- 
cutt,  but  not  when  poking  a  finger  about  his  plants. 
He  was  willing  to  give  way  before  the  master's 
knowledge;  but  he  stood  his  ground  firmly  against, 
ignorant  interference,  even  from  the  mistress.  But 
to-day  was  Michael's  day  "off." 

The  flush  deepened  on  her  cheeks.  Her  fingers 
cleansed  themselves  on  the  white  embroidered 
frock.  Her  bronze  hair,  copper  colored  under  the 
sun,  gathered  some  of  the  loam  as  she  pushed  the 
soft  locks  away  from  her  forehead.  The  gray  eyes, 
purple  with  excitement,  peered  out  from  their  en- 
circling black  fringe  in  careful  scrutiny  of  each 
stroke  she  made.  Her  red  mouth  was  slightly  open, 
her  breath  coming  in  soft  catches. 

Orcutt  stood  in  the  doorway.  An  indulgently 
amused  smile  was  on  his  lips — she  was  trying  so 
hard  and  doing  so  poorly.  He  stepped  forward  on 
the  cement  floor.  Gail  turned,  scissors  and  fork 
thrust  behind  her  with  the  guilty  confusion  of  a 
child  caught  in  a  misdemeanor. 


134  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

"Oh!"  Her  laugh  rang  out,  "I  thought  it  was 
Michael." 

Orcutt  took  the  fork  from  her  hands. 

"Look,"  he  enjoined,  thrusting  it  into  the  earth. 
"This  is  the  way  to  dig.  Why  didn't  you  ask  me 
to  show  you?"  He  smiled.  "Together  we  might 
safely  resist  Michael's  wrath,  I  think." 

Her  eyes,  smiling,  yet  somewhat  wistful,  upraised 
to  his. 

"I  was  ashamed  to.  I  have  to  ask  you  so  many 
things.  I  don't  seem  to  know  anything  about — 
real  things." 

He  caught  her  hands  in  his,  his  brooding  expres- 
sion giving  way  to  boyish  excitement. 

"Dear,  let's  cut  for  the  open  and  have  a  taste 
of  real  things.  As  soon  as  Spring  opens  up  let's 
get  a  covered  wagon  and  two  stout  horses  and  a 
couple  of  men  to  drive  and  cook,  and  let  you  and 
I  and  the  boy  go  gypsying.  It  came  to  me  as  I  drove 
home  that  this  is  the  thing  of  all  things  that  I 
should  like  to  do.  We'll  go  as  the  grass  begins  to 
look  through.  Think!  to  lean  against  a  tree  burst- 
ing with  blooms  and  view  the  pageant  of  Spring ! — 
to  lie  on  a  bank  and  listen  to  a  brook  gurgle  its 
way  to  the  river!  And  to  hear  the  birds  in  the 
early  morning!  And  to  smell  the  earth!  It  puts 
new  life  into  me  to  think  of  it!" 

Her  mouth  opened  again  over  soft  catches  of 
breath.  The  only  pageant  of  Spring  she  had  ever 
seen  had  been  from  a  whizzing  automobile.  The 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  135 

smell  of  the  earth! — she  had  caught  a  whiff  of  its 
intoxicating  fragrance  from  the  soil  she  had  been 
turning  over. 

Her  eyes  raised  again,  filled  with  hurting  wonder. 

"I've  never  seen  the  Spring — really.  And  I 
didn't  know  till  now  that  I  hadn't."  She  laughed 
softly.  "I'm  like  a  flower  in  a  pot,  my  roots  have 
twisted  round  and  round  in  one  little  close  circle 
and  I've  never  known  how  cramped  they  are  till 
they  began  to  reach  out  into  fresh  earth." 

He  brought  her  hands  up  to  his  shoulders  and 
his  arms  encircled  her. 

"Poor  little  house  flower,"  he  whispered.  "Not 
to  have  seen  the  woods  in  the  early  morning! — And 
at  dusk! — And  after  a  storm — when  it  is  profana- 
tion to  do  more  than  peep  in  with  bated  breath." 

"I  have  always  been  afraid  of  the  woods.  Think 
of  it!" 

There  was  shame  in  her  eyes.  And  for  more 
than  this  statement.  She  was  beginning  to  realize 
the  infinite  resources  of  life  and  was  in  a  daze  over 
them. 

"Oh!  I  do  so  want  to  learn  about — about  the 
deeper  things  of  life  that  I  don't  understand 
now Do  you  think  I  ever  can?" 

The  man's  eyes  dwelt  tenderly  upon  her.  He  had 
never  quite  lost  a  thrill  of  wonder  that  this  ex- 
quisite being  was  his  wife.  And  it  came  to  him 
now  that  she  was  in  his  arms,  unafraid !  And  wist- 
ful, seeking  knowledge,  dreamily  lovely  with  the 


136  THE    WOMAN'S    LAW 

dawn  of  a  broader  vision  that  carried  her  without 
herself. 

"You  can  be  anything  you  want  to  be.  Those 
wings  of  yours  that  are  beating  against  the  chrysa- 
lis are  so  wonderful  that  you  can't  imagine  all  their 
glory.  Convention — this  deadly  routine — indoors ! 
We'll  leave  it  all.  We'll  go  away.  We'll  be  our 
own  happiness.  Instead  of  a  diamond  tiara  we'll 
wind  a  red  'kerchief  about  this  pretty  head  in  true 
gypsy  style,  and  get  you " 

"Glass  beads,"  she  dimpled.  "I  must  have  glass 
beads !  And  big  ear-rings  that  dangle,  and  a  short 
skirt — a  red  brocade  one !  Oh !  I  know  how  a  gypsy 
should  dress!" 

"Sure !"  chaffed  he.  "You've  seen  them  in  opera." 

"And  you,"  she  went  on  excitedly,  "must  wear 
a  red  'kerchief  about  your  head  with  a  black  slouch 
hat  over  it,  and  have  a  cloth  of  gold  waistcoat  and 
velvet  trousers !  And  you  must  look  villainous — 
like  a  terrible,  terrible  bandit!" 

"And  all  the  while  I'll  be  a  skulking  poacher. 
We'll  filch  chickens  from  nice  respectable  barn- 
yards and  roast  them  on  a  spit  before  a  brushwood 
fire.  And  the  smoky  taste  will  seem  ambrosia " 

"We'll  have  the  fire  by  the  river,"  cried  she,  "so 
that  we  can  see  the  reflection  in  the  water — a  red- 
gold  flame- 


"And  we'll  catch  silver-spangled  fish " 

Her  eyes  quickened.     "And  we'll  have  a  dog,  a 


(THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  137 

floppy-eared  dog  that  runs  under  the  wagon  day- 
times and  bays  at  night  at  the  stars  while " 

"We  sit  on  the  ground  before  an  ember  fire," 
quoth  he,  "an  ember  fire  that  isn't  a  fire  at  all,  but 
is  music  and  poetry  and  magic.  We'll  gaze  into  it 
and " 

"Talk,"  she  whispered,  "about  the  things  I  don't 
know.  It'll  be  dark  so  that  I  can't  see  if  you  are 
laughing  at  my  foolish  questions.  And  I'll " 

"Be  too  full  of  the  wonder  of  the  night  to  know 
whether  I'm  answering  wisely  or  foolishly.  I'll  tell 
you  marvellous  tales,  and  hold  you  to  my  heart — 
like  this.  .  .  .  And " 

His  mouth  came  to  hers. 

They  kissed  each  other,  rather  solemnly,  then  in 
a  clinging,  tumultuous,  hungry  way. 

"My  wife!" 

Wife! — At  the  word  a  tremor  passed  through 
her.  She  sent  a  dazed  look  into  his  face,  then  her 
eyes  fell  upon  her  hands  that  clasped  his  neck. 

"Oh !"  It  was  a  cry  of  dismay.  "Let  me  go ! 
Let  me  go!" 

"Why?"  he  asked,  a  tender  laugh  in  his  tone. 

"Please,"  she  begged,  her  hands  tugging  franti- 
cally at  his 'arms. 

"Come,"  he  soothed,  with  a  faint  humor  in  his 
eyes.  "You've  kissed  your  husband — but  that's  a 
wife's  prerogative,  isn't  it,  dear?  Don't  struggle, 
beloved.  You  can  never  go  now.  You  know  that." 

She  gazed  up  at  him,  affrightedly. 


i38  THE   WOMAN'S    LAW 

His  hands  were  immovably  locked  behind  her — 
the  hands  of  a  husband!  And  there  was  nothing 
that  she,  a  wife,  could  say  to  unlock  them!  The 
surrendering  of  her  lips  had  nullified  every  argu- 
ment that  she  could  now  bring  forth. 

The  man  smiled,  indulgently. 

"Just  a  little  gypsy  girl!"  he  crooned.  "A  little 
gypsy  girl  who  is  going  to  love  her  husband  and 
be  happy!  Yes?" His  mouth  brushing  hers. 

Her  lips  opened  over  a  shriek — a  loud  piercing 
cry  that  reached  to  the  hall  and  the  rooms  beyond, 
and  that  brought  hurrying  footsteps  down  the  hall- 
way. With  a  hysterical  sob  she  sprang  from  his 
loosened  arms,  crushed  a  prickly  cactus  leaf  within 
her  hand,  and  held  the  hand  up,  scratched  and  bleed- 
ing, before  Jackson's  inquiring  eyes. 

"You  must  have  thought — I  was — dying — by  that 
shriek,"   she  gasped.      "I  was  so  interested — in— 
what  Mr.  Orcutt — was  saying  that  I  grabbed  hold 
of  the   cactus — without — thinking " 

Jackson  looked  at  her  hand,  then  ran  nimbly  for 
the  aseptic  box  and  bandages.  Orcutt  turned  the 
cold  water  on  at  the  faucet. 

"Put  your  hand  under  this,"  said  he  quietly. 

"Mama!" 

Vance  ran  into  the  room,  palpitating  with  excite- 
ment. He  looked  up  at  his  father. 

"Is  it  a  big  hurt  or  a  teeny  one?"  he  questioned 
anxiously. 

The  footman,  the  parlor-maid,  an  up-stairs  girl, 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  139 

appeared  at  the  door.  Other  steps  came  down  the 
hall. 

"Mama  has  hurt  her  hand,"  explained  Vance,  in 
rising  staccato. 

"And  I  screamed  very  foolishly,"  added  Mrs. 
Orcutt,  with  a  nod  of  dismissal. 

Jackson  appeared  with  the  bandages.  Jackson's 
fingers  were  very  deft  at  this. 

"I  bandaged  your  hand  once,  Mistah  George, 
when  your  mother  thought  it  was  cut  in  two.  My! 
but  she  was  a  scared  woman  that  day!  She  'most 
fainted  before  the  doctor  got  here." 

Vance  watched  the  performance  and  questioned 
eagerly  about  each  move.  Gail  kept  her  eyelids 
lowered.  Orcutt,  standing  quietly  to  one  side, 
scrutinized  her  white,  shaken  face.  It  was  hys- 
terics, was  the  result  of  his  cogitations. 


XIX 

9  I  VHE  mother  caught  the  child  close  in  her  arms. 
•*-  They  were  in  her  room. 

"O,  my  baby!  my  baby!" 

Vance  wriggled.  He  did  not  like  to  be  called  a 
baby.  And  he  could  not  understand  his  mother's 
wild  outburst  of  tears.  Hadn't  she  just  told  Jack- 
son that  her  hand  felt  all  right  now  that  it  was 
bandaged? 

"Does  it  hurt  so  very  bad,  Mama?" 

The  mother  kissed  him,  distractedly. 

"Let  me  hold  you  so,  against  my  heart!  Mama 

needs  you.  I  meant  to  save  my  boy And — 

and  my  boy  must — save — me " 

"Save  you!  How,  Mama?  What  are  you  afraid 
of?" 

"Myself,"  uttered  Gail  wildly.  "Day  after  day 

— seeing  him And  my  life  was  so  bare 

And  to  be  loved  tenderly — like  this " 

"Him!  Do  you  mean  Papa?  Why,  Papa 
wouldn't  hurt  you  now,  Mama !  Papa's  good  now 
— isn't  he?"  Vance's  eyes  were  suddenly  troubled. 
A  long  while  ago  his  Mama's  shoulder  had  been 

140 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  141 

bruised  where  Papa  had  thrown  something  against 
it,  a  funny  reeling  Papa,  who  had  wanted  to  take 
Vance  riding  and  his  Mama  wouldn't  let  him.  "My 
— my  Papa  didn't  hurt  your  hand — did  he?" 

"No!"  she  answered,  fiercely.  "I  hurt  my  own 
hand — wilfully — as  I  have  done  all  the — other 
things." 

"But  why  don't  you  let  Papa  help  you?  Papa's 
strong  enough  for  anything." 

"Strong!"  She  caught  her  breath.  "It's  his 

strength  that — draws  me I  am  so — tired 

And  a  protecting  love No!  No!  No!" 

The  boy  squared  his  shoulders. 

"Tell  me,  Mama.     I'll  help  you,  the  best  I  can." 

"You  have  helped  me,"  she  whispered.  "You 
can  go  now  and  telephone  Aunt  Kate  Lorme.  Tell 
her  that  I  want  her  to  come  here  right  away,  to 
leave  anything  she's  doing  and  come." 

Vance  went,  delightedly.  It  was  only  recently 
that  he  had  learned  to  use  the  telephone  by  him- 
self. 

Gail  beat  her  hands  together. 

"Oh!  Oh!"  she  uttered  frenziedly. 

Her  plight  had  been  awful  enough  before.  Wak- 
ing or  sleeping  she  was  never  fully  at  ease;  her 
nerves  were  always  keyed  to  a  strained  expectancy. 
The  clang  of  the  door-bell;  the  telephone;  the  ap- 
proach of  a  messenger  boy;  a  policeman  at  her 
gates;  all  these  brought  a  suffocating  apprehension. 

She  had  wondered  if  a  woman  could  be  in  a  more 


i42  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

perilous  position Any  moment  some  one  might 

cross  her  path  who  knew  this  man His  mem- 
ory might  return,  bringing  with  it  attendant  obli- 
gations that  would  necessitate  his  declaring  him- 
self— George  Orcutt,  always  under  the  influence  of 
liquor,  was  not  a  safe  person  to  hold  a  secret — 
and  the  other  dread  thing — when  he  should  refuse 
to  remain  quiescent  as  a  friend 

She  had  been  quakily  apprehensive  of  each  and 
all  of  these,  and  prepared  for  them  in  a  measure. 
Nothing  could  have  surprised  her  but  this  act  of 
her  own,  this  mad,  blind,  weak  act  of  a  girl,  she 
called  it  in  her  fury.  She  had  been  forgetful  of 
her  responsibilities,  of  her  womanhood,  of  her — 
motherhood ! 

Yet — it  had  been  so  natural  a  thing  to  do.  To 
be  in  his  arms,  to  raise  her  lips  to  his — had  been 
just  another  step  in  the  life  they  had  lived  together 
for  the  past  four  months.  She  saw  now  the  stages 
that  had  led  to  it:  their  daily  contact;  their  inter- 
change of  thoughts  and  courtesies;  their  dependence 
upon  each  other  for  companionship ;  their  mutual  re- 
lationship toward  Vance — they  had  laughed  to- 
gether with  the  child,  their  child!  and  had  worried 
over  his  ailments,  and  exchanged  humorous  glances 
of  understanding  above  his  head. 

The  bars  that  separated  her  from  him  had  come 
down  so  gradually  that  she  had  not  noticed  their 
absence.  "Gypsying?"  When  he  had  spoken  the 
word  a  magic  had  come  with  it.  She  wanted  to  be 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  143 

free!  And  freedom  was  in  the  word.  Her  blood 
had  thrilled.  An  intoxication  had  shaken  her. 
There  had  been  no  bonds.  There  had  been  only 
the  Open — the  great  Open! — a  blue  sky,  the  fra- 
grance of  flowers — and  he  and  she ! 

She  rose  and  walked  the  floor,  twisted  her  hands, 
unmindful  of  the  bandage  and  the  lacerated  flesh. 

What  was  she  to  do  now? 

"Mama,  I  telephoned  Aunt  Kate,"  piped  Vance. 
"She  says  she'll  be  here  in  ten  minutes.  She  was 
just  going  out  and  the  car  was  at  the  door.  And 
Papa's  going  riding,  and  I'm  going  with  him."  He 
held  up  his  face  to  be  kissed.  "Papa's  nicer  now 
than  Charlie  Snow's  papa,  or  Clyde  Emmon's,  or 
any  boy's — isn't  he?"  He  broke  away  from  her. 
"Papa's  whistling  for  me!" 

Gail  stood  at  the  window  and  watched  the  two 
ride  down  the  drive.  The  man's  erect,  muscular 
figure  was  well  suited  to  riding  clothes.  Vance,  on 
his  pony,  emulated  his  father's  manner,  as  nearly 
as  possible.  Gail  watched  them — and  planned, 
planned  desperately,  all  the  while  feeling  herself  in 
an  eddy  that  was  whirling  her  to  the  bottom  and 
destruction. 

"He  is  a  father  that  will  not  shame  him,"  she 
uttered  feverishly.  "Vance  idolizes  him.  And  it 
is  a  chance." 

"What  is  a  chance?" 

It  was  Mrs.  Lorme. 


i44  THE    WOMAN'S    LAW 

Gail  turned,  held  out  her  hands  with  impassioned 
gesture. 

"After  Vance's  operation  I  want  you  to  ask 
George  and  Vance  to  go  with  you  to  Florida.  Miss 
Lauder  will  take  care  of  Vance.  He  wants  to 
work  out-of-doors — there  is  your  orange  grove — 

get  him  interested  in  that Get  him  to  buy  one ! 

He  can  keep  Vance — half  the — time." 

"Gail!     What  is  this!     Keep  Vance!" 

"Please!  Please!"  sobbed  the  piteous  voice.  "No 
matter  about  my  reasons.  Take  him  away!"  Her 
feverish  hands  clasped  Mrs.  Lorme's  neck. 

"Gail,  what  is  the  matter!  Why  yesterday  when 
you  and  George  were  at  our  house  you  and  he  were 
as  chummy " 

"Yesterday?"  Gail  shivered.  "It  seems  a  life- 
time since  yesterday.  ...  I  was  on  the  height 

then You  remember  that  time  on  Mount  Pis- 

gah  when  we  were  up  above  the  clouds,  only  the  sky 
above  us,  the  clear  blue  sky,  that  seemed  to  draw  us 
up — up — up !  and  the  rarefied  air  that  made  us  gid- 
dily happy  like  foolish  children!  and  the  disregard 
we  had  for  the  heavy  rain-filled  clouds  beneath.  .  .  . 
There  was  no  beneath  to  our  seeming — no  rocks, 
no  dangerous  passes;  no  declivities  waiting  for  a 
false  step  to  destroy  us!  ....  We  stood  on  the 
summit  and  laughed  and  inhaled  the  intoxicating 
air  and  were  irresistibly,  wildly,  ecstatically  happy. 
We  were  children  of  Pan."  A  long  tremor  shook 
her,  she  spoke  scarcely  above  her  breath.  "For 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  145 

four  months  I  was  on  a  summit,  a  child  of  Pan.  .  . . 
I'm  down  now  with  the  clouds  blinding  me  and 
hidden  fissures  waiting  to  catch  my  feet  and  throw 

me The  blue  sky  and  transparent  air  are 

gone " 

Mrs.  Lorme  patted  the  bowed  head. 

"Poor  little  chick!  Why  do  you  beat  your  wings 
this  way?  You  are  going  to  make  up  wholly  with 
George  some  day — why  not  now?  This  holding  off 
a  month  more  or  less — what  does  it  matter?  And 
dear,  it's. not  fair  to  George.  If  he  should  go  to 
the  bad  again,  I'd  blame  you,  not  him.  A  husband 
is  a  husband.  You  can't  talk  about  favors  when  a 
man's  position  entails  rights.  You  could  make  terms 
before  because  George  knew  that  the  law  was  on 
your  side.  It's  different  now.  George  offers  you 
his  undivided  affection.  And  he's  different.  Now 
that  his  flesh  has  lost  the  bloat  and  puffiness  he's 
a  mighty  handsome  man.  I  never  talked  to  him  two 
hours  before  all  told,  so  I  can't  say  from  first  hand 
what  he  used  to  be  like,  but  he's  mighty  fascinating 
now.  I  have  an  old  woman's  foolish  fondness  for 
him.  If  I  were  in  your  shoes  I'd  be  crying  for  his 
kisses,  not  crying  out  against  'em." 

"Kate,  there  is  something  between  him  and  me 
as  wide  as  the  ocean.  He  can  never  be  more  to  me 
than  he  is  now.  I  want  you  to  understand  this — 
just  the  fact,  for  I  cannot  explain — and  understand- 
ing this,  you  will  help  me." 


146  THE   WOMAN'S    LAW 

Mrs.  Lorme  sat  back  and  dropped  her  hands  to 
her  lap  with  a  dumbfounded  thump. 

"Are  you  out  of  your  head?  You  must  be  to 
talk  like  this !  Why  of  course  you  and  George  are 
going  to  live  together  like  rational  beings.  What 
sort  of  conduct  is  this  for  a  wife?  It's  not  that 
you're  afraid  he'll  be  going  to  sporting  again?  Re- 
turn to  the  other  personality?"  scornfully. 

"N-o." 

"That's  good  to  hear  anyhow.  I  don't  believe 
one  mite  in  the  double  personality  business.  George 
has  just  swung  around  to  his  better  self  as  many 
another  man  has.  He  had  too  noble  a  father  and 
mother  not  to  be  good  himself  at  bottom.  In  the 
sanatorium  he  was  sober  and  out  of  temptation  long 
enough  to  get  a  new  grip  on  himself.  Losing  his 
memory  was  a  blessing;  he  didn't  have  old  associa- 
tions filling  his  mind  and  contending  against  his 
better  ideas.  The  bad  in  him  has  simply  given  way 
to  the  good.  It's  no  mystery  to  me  about  his  knowl- 
edge of  literature  and  scientific  things.  You  re- 
member the  occasions  he  used  to  disappear  for 
weeks  at  a  time?" 

Yes;  Gail  remembered  the  occasions  when  George 
Orcutt  was  in  a  private  hospital  with  doctors  and 
nurses  laboring  to  bring  him  safely  through  deli- 
rium tremens. 

"He  was  studying,"  asserted  Mrs.  Lorme.  "He 
was  off  alone  somewhere  reading  and  instructing 
himself.  His  father  used  always  to  shut  himself  up 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  147 

to  read.  George's  mind  has  held  on  to  the  things 
he  learned  on  those  occasions — to  the  good  he 
wrought  for  himself  in  secret.  That's  my  opinion 
and  always  will  be.  Nowadays,  everything  outside 
of  the  simple  A  B  C  of  life  is  called  a  psychologi- 
cal phenomenon.  But  no  matter  how  it's  happened, 
George  has  reformed.  I  was  as  down  on  him  as 
any  one  when  he  was  a  wastrel.  But  he's  no  wastrel 
now.  He's  a  husband  to  love  and  be  proud  of. 
And  you  ask  me  to  carry  him  away  from  you!  to 
keep  him  away!" 

"And  you  will!  you  will!     Promise  me!" 

"Gail,  sweet,  I  don't  like  to  go  against  you, 
but- 

"You  are  against  me,"  uttered  Gail,  in  a  wail  of 
despair.  "And  Vance,  my  own  baby,  is  against  me! 

And — and  he  is Oh!  I  realize'  that  you 

wouldn't  be  if  you  knew And — and  he 

wouldn't  be — if  he  knew.  That's  the  thing  that's 
killing  me.  I  can't  tell — I  must  keep  it  all  locked 
here  in  my  breast.  .  .  .  You  all  love  me — yet  I'm 
alone — alone !  And  I  can  only  fight  and  fight  and 
fight — alone!" 

Her  face  was  ghastly,  ravaged  as  though  with 
sickness.  Mrs.  Lorme,  who  had  loved  her  all  the 
years,  looked  at  her  now  in  troubled  questioning. 
This  utter  desperation — what  could  it  mean? 

"Dear,  I  want  to  see  you  happy.  And  that's 
the  reason  that  I  want  you  and  George " 


148  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

"No — no — no !"  came  frantically.  "And  he  must 
not  kiss  me  again,  Kate.  He  must  not!" 

"Why — why — you  act  as  though  you're  afraid  of 
yourself!" 

Mrs.  Lorme  contemplated  with  staring  eyes 
Gail's  crimsoning  face. 

"You  are !     Well,  of  all " 

"Crazy  old  Kates,  you're  the  craziest,"  came  in 
a  shaky  voice.  The  slender  fingers  dug  into  the 
woman's  arm.  "Promise  me  to  do  what  I  ask," 
she  implored.  "Promise!  Promise!" 

"Child,  it's  all  wrong.  I  feel  it — I  know  it!  But 
— I  promise." 


•«*f!/i 


"'Please  go! — please — please!'  she  whispered" — Page 


XX 


/CLUTCHING  wildly  at  her  open  kimona  of 
^-^  white  and  gold,  Gail  closed  it  over  the  flimsy, 
beribboned  night-dress  beneath,  shrank  into  a 
friendly  shadow,  cast  a  hapless  look  about  the  room. 

"You!— Here!"  she  panted. 

"Why  not?"  answered  Orcutt. 

He  stood  a  few  feet  from  her,  arrayed  in  a  long 
velvet  dressing-gown. 

"Go!"  she  commanded.     "Go,  or " 

"What?"  asked  he. 

She  gazed  at  him  in  a  sort  of  frozen  terror. 

"Come,  Gail,  there  is  nothing  to  be  frightened 
about.  To  see  your  face  one  might  think  I  was  a 
lawless  intruder  criminally  invading  a  strange 
maid's  sanctuary.  Sit  down,  please.  I  want  to  talk 
to  you."  He  smiled.  "Don't  blush  so,  dear." 

"Please  go ! — please — please!"  she  whispered. 

"Go  where?  Away  from  you  forever?  Is  that 
what  you  are  asking?  I  told  you  that  first  day  at 
the  sanatorium  that  I  should  either  be  your  hus- 
band or  not  be.  Don't  you  see,  beloved,  that  you 
and  I  must  live  our  lives  wholly  together — or  wholly 

149 


150  THE    WOMAN'S    LAW 

apart?  There  can  be  no  middle  course  for  me,  lov- 
ing you  as  I  do.  And  not  after  to-day.  You  have 
kissed  me;  nothing  you  may  say  can  ever  undo 
that." 

Gail  gripped  the  silken  drapery  of  the  window 
and  drew  it  before  her. 

"I  don't  want  you  here,"  she  cried,  "and  you 
know  I  don't.  It  is  cruel  for  you — to — to " 

"What,  dear?  To  want  to  have  my  wife  for  my 
own?  My  God!  sweetheart,  if  you  knew  how  my 
arms  have  ached  to  hold  you !  Not  a  day  but  I 
feel  I  must  draw  you  close  against  my  heart.  You 
are  my  world.  And  I  want  to  take  you  away  some- 
where with  me.  I  want  you  to  leave  this  burden- 
some house  with  its  wretched  memories,  and  go  with 
me  to  find  a  new  happiness.  What  is  a  man's 
strength  for  if  it  cannot  protect  the  woman  God 
gave  him!" 

"Protect!  Do  you  call  it  protecting  to — to — try 
to — f  o  r  ce ' ' 

"Yes,"  he  said  gravely.  "You  have  dwelt  on  the 
injuries  that  I  did  you — the  I  that  my  present  con- 
sciousness knows  nothing  about — till  you  have  lost 
the  power  to  judge  rightly.  There  can  be  no  true 
harmony  in  our  home,  no  right  atmosphere  for 
Vance,  till  you  and  I  are  leading  normal  lives  to- 
gether." 

He  reached  his  arms  toward  her. 

"My  own  darling!  Where  do  you  belong,  where 
is  your  safety,  your  happiness,  if  not  here?  Forget 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  151 

everything  but  that  I  love  you  with  my  whole 
heart.  .  .  .  And  that  I  need  you!  Dear,  tender 
little  wife,  don't  you  see  how  badly  I  need  your 
love?  What  a  strange  world  this  is  that  I  am  now 
groping  in!  ....  And  when  my  own  wife  treats 
me  like  a  stranger!  Dear  God!  What  have  I  to 
turn  to !  I  am  a  man  adrift,  with  no  anchorage  but 
you.  And  you !  you  are  love,  life,  everything  to 
me.  Oh,  my  dear  wife,  don't  you  see  that  your 
place  is  here,  in  my  arms?" 

Her  eyes  dropped — so  that  he  should  not  see 
their  pity.  An  enveloping  tenderness  assailed  her. 
His  eyes  were  so  frank  and  boyish.  And  he  had 
been  so  generous,  so  considerate  of  her,  had  ac- 
cepted so  uncomplainingly  her  mandate  of  friend- 
ship. Her  tongue  stuck  to  her  throat. 

"Dear!"  he  whispered. 

"I — you "  she  essayed  weakly. 

Then — her  own  desperate  case  clutched  her. 
Somehow  she  must  get  him  out  of  her  room.  He 
was  a  husband,  with  rights. 

"You  must  go,  go  now!"  she  commanded  pas- 
sionately. "You  shall  not  stay  here.  I  will  call 
the  servants,  the  police,  any  one!" 

"You  will  not,"  he  returned  sternly.  "This  is 
my  house  and  you  are  my  wife;  no  one  shall  inter- 
fere with  my  conduct  with  either.  And  I  ask  you 
now,  in  simple  justice,  never  to  repeat  your  per- 
formance of  this  morning.  I  ran  into  Gregory  and 
Bryan  just  as  they  were  agreeing  that  'the  old  Or- 


i5a  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

cutt  had  broken  out  again,  as  they  had  predicted.' 
They  believed  that  /  had  injured  your  hand!" 

His  arms  fell  to  his  side,  and  a  clammy  fear 
looked  out  from  his  eyes. 

"Good  God!     Did  I   ever — abuse  you,  Gail?" 

This  was  her  opportunity  to  prove  his  unworthi- 
ness.  Her  head  raised  in  scorn.  But  she  did  not 
speak. 

He  had  never  injured  her — and  he  loved  her — 
she  was  his  wife — he  was  in  her  room — yet  there 
was  a  chivalrous  gentleness  in  his  seeking. 

"No,"  she  whispered.    "You  never  did." 

He  laughed,  a  rapturous  utterance.  And  quickly 
his  hands  came  out  and  caught  her,  his  arms  wrap- 
ping her  closely  to  him. 

"My  blessed  wife!     You  do  care,  don't  you?" 

"No — no — no!"  She  evaded  his  lips,  her  face 
burying  itself  against  the  velvet  shoulder. 

He  laughed  again,  and  kissed  her  hair,  her  neck, 
the  soft  bare  arms. 

"Come,"  he  whispered,  "let  me  look  into  your 
eyes,"  and  put  a  hand  on  either  cheek  to  raise  her 
face. 

A  swift  move  and  she  had  reached  the  opposite 
side  of  the  room.  She  stood  behind  a  table  and  fum- 
bled with  the  drawer.  Then  he  saw  the  gleam  of  a 
pistol,  and  pointing  toward  her  heart.  A  fraction 
of  a  second  and  he  had  taken  it  away  from  her 
and  was  gazing  into  the  magazine.  It  was  empty. 

"So  it's  not  loaded.     That's  good.     I  shouldn't 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  153 

want  a  loaded  gun  around  where  Vance  might  get 
hold  of  it,"  he  said  quietly. 

"Vance!  You  didn't  think  then  that  I — was — 
going  to  shoot — myself?"  she  asked  faintly. 

"Yes ;  I  think  I  did,"  he  returned.  "But  I'm  glad 
to  see  that  you're  still  in  possession  of  your  senses. 
And  an  empty  gun  serves  your  purpose  just  as 
well."  He  seated  himself.  "Sit  down,  Gail.  You 
can  keep  the  table  between  us.  I'm  going  to  try 
to  see  things  from  your  point  of  view.  Now,  tell 
me  what  the  trouble  is — the  real  trouble." 

"The — real  trouble?"  she  mumbled,  crouching  to 
a  chair  behind  the  table. 

He  waited  impassively. 

"Come,"  he  urged  at  length.  "There's  a  dam- 
nable mystery  somewhere.  And  I  intend  to  get  at 
the  bottom  of  it,  and  soon.  When  I  go  away,  out 
to  the  Open  that's  calling  me,  you're  going  with  me. 
Yes;  you  are.  Without  you  life  would  be — hell. 
Just  that." 

"I  can't  go.  But  you  can  stay  here I  want 

you,  if " 

He  shook  his  head  impatiently. 

"There  would  always  be  'if,'  Gail.  You  might 
as  well  tell  me  not  to  breathe  as  not  to  make  love 
to  you.  I  can't  help  it.  To  kiss  you  and  have  you 
in  my  arms  seems  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world.  And  to  save  me,  /  can't  see  why  I 
shouldn't." 

"I've  told  you " 


154  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

"I  know.  And  your  lips  on  mine  this  morning 
told  me  that  all  the  rest  was  a  lie.  Gail,  there's 
something  underneath  all  this.  You're  sick  with 
fear — but  not  of  my  love."  He  drew  up  to  the 
table,  laid  his  arms  upon  it.  "Dearest,  I  want  you 
to  tell  me  what  this  is.  I  am  the  best  friend  you 
have  in  the  world.  Let  us  face  our  trouble  to- 
gether. .  .  .  Come,  dear,  tell  me !  I  shall  find  out 
by  myself  otherwise.  .  .  .  Come,  trust  me!  No 
matter  what  it  is,  I  should  share  your  burdens." 

Her  eyes  searched  his  piteously. 

"Your  friend  and  lover,"  he  answered.  "Dear, 
tell  me !  Don't  you  see  that  in  the  end  this  is  what 
it  must  come  to,  that  there  is  no  other  way?" 

Her  eyes  turned  from  his,  and  a  burning  blush 
spread  from  her  throat  up  over  her  face.  He  would 
know — some  day.  She  saw  now  that  the  game  was 
ending — the  hand  against  her  was  too  sure  and 
strong.  And  perhaps,  could  she  tell  him  now,  his 
love  might  make  him  pitiful.  But 

Here  alone  with  him  in  her  bed  chamber  at  two 
in  the  morning — arrayed  in  a  flimsy  negligee — a 
few  minutes  before  clasped  in  his  arms — his  mind 
still  awake  to  her  passionate  kisses  of  the  morning — 
and  to  tell  him  that  he  was  a  stranger,  a  man  whose 
name  she  did  not  know! 

She  cowered  in  her  chair,  the  red  blood  rioting 
in  her  face. 

He  watched  her  curiously.  His  hands  reached 
over  the  narrow  table  and  took  hold  of  hers. 


THE    WOMAN'S    LAW  155 

"Your  friend,"  he  whispered. 

She  met  his  eyes  despairingly. 

"I  can  never  tell  you." 

"Then  there  is  something!" 

"Yes,"  she  returned,  the  word  drawn  from  her. 

"What?" 

The  crimson  o'f  her  cheeks  gave  place  to  a  pinched 
grayness.  Her  eyes  were  stupid  with  anguish.  Why 
had  she  said  this?  She  was  alone  with  him.  He 
had  locked  the  door  and  the  key  was  in  his  pocket. 
The  call:bell  was  at  the  far  end  of  the  room.  His 
hands  were  on  hers  impellingly.  She  must  tell  him 
or 

But  he  was  speaking. 

"This  something Does  it  mean  that  I  should 

not  be  here  with  you?" 

She  nodded  her  head. 

There  was  a  tense  moment  while  he  looked  into 
her  eyes,  contemplatively.  It  was  a  "mania,"  as 
Doctor  Underwood  had  said.  For  what  could  she 
have  to  hide  from  him  that  could  cause  her  such 
wild  terror?  Christmas  eve  she  had  been  palpitant 
with  fear — and  this  morning  she  had  kissed  him 
impassionedly,  her  soft  body  nestling  in  his  arms. 

She  saw  his  eyes  change.  Shivering,  she  tried  to 
draw  her  hands  from  his.  He  half  rose,  brushed 
the  light  table  aside  with  his  foot,  and  drew  her 
with  one  quick  move  to  him. 

"My  wife!"  He  spoke  softly.  "There  is  noth- 
ing that  could  separate  you  from  me,  dear.  Poor: 


156  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

little  girl!  with  your  fevered  fancies!  It's  this 
oppressive  house.  Out  there  in  the  Open,  where  you 
and  I  are  going,  the  dear  wife  will  get  well." 

"Wait!" 

Her  voice  came  faintly  from  his  shoulder. 

"Yes?"  he  whispered. 

"I  —  I  —  am  —  am  —  not  -  not  -  " 

"Not—  what,  dear?" 

Her  tongue  would  not  go  on.  Her  lips  shut  and 
drove  the  words  back.  Yet  —  she  must  speak  —  she 
must  —  she  must! 


Her  chattering  teeth  closed. 

He  took  a  few  steps,  still  holding  her. 

"No  wonder  your  teeth  are  chattering.  This  win- 
dow is  open,  and  an  icy  blast  that  would  freeze  an 
Esquimau  coming  in." 

He  loosed  a  hand  to  close  the  window.  There 
was  an  iron  balcony  beyond.  The  window  was  lit- 
tle more  than  a  foot  from  the  floor.  There  was 
a  catch  on  the  outer  side  as  well  as  the  inner.  Her 
mind  grasped  all  this  in  a  blinding  flash.  Fren- 
ziedly  she  tore  herself  from  him  and  leapt  through 
the  open  space.  Her  convulsive  fingers  clutched 
the  sash  and  drew  it  down  and  locked  it,  and  all  so 
quickly  that  the  man  was  staring  at  her  through  the 
closed  window  before  he  had  grasped  her  intent. 

He  looked  at  her  bare  arms  and  neck,  and  the 
thin  gown  that  sheathed  about  her  in  the  wind.  It 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  157 

was  biting  weather.  "Mania?"  Yes;  it  was  that, 
nothing  less. 

Gail  did  not  feel  the  cold.  The  window  barred 
him  from  her!  And  she  had  not  told  her  secret! 
She  watched  him  leave  the  room.  Then  she  bowed 
her  head  to  her  hands,  nervously  sick.  A  little 
while,  and  she  heard  the  door  open.  But  she  did 
not  look  up.  Safety  lay  here,  outside. 

"Mama!" 

Vance  shook  the  window  violently. 

"Papa  sent  me  to  bring  you  in.  Come  on,  quick! 
Quick!5'' 

He  watched  her  breathlessly  as  the  window 
raised.  Then  his  little  warm  body  launched  itself 
upon  her. 

"My  baby!    My  baby!" 

She  was  kissing  him  and  crying  wildly.  But 
Vance  did  not  mind  now.  His  Papa  had  come  and 
wakened  him  and  had  carried  him  to  his  mother's 
door.  And  he  had  told  him  "to  be  very  good  to 
Mama." 

Vance  told  her  this.     Also: 

"Papa  says  for  you  to  get  into  a  hot  bath  right 
away.  There  were  tears  in  Papa's  eyes.  He  said 
they  were  for  you.  Are  things  going — bad  again?" 

Bad?  She  caught  her  breath  so  sharply  that  the 
child  was  a  little  frightened.  There  was  some- 
thing so  strange  about  his  Mama  to-night. 

"Yes,  things  are  going  very  bad.  .  .  .  Oh,  my 
baby!  I  have  done  all  I  can  for  you.  .  ,  .  And 


158  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

I  am  so  afraid — so  dreadfully  afraid  of  the — 
end." 

"The  end?  Do  you  mean  the  end  of  the  world, 
Mama,  that  Jackson  talks  about?"  he  asked,  half  in 
tears. 

"No,"  she  comforted.  Her  voice  sank  to  her 
throat:  "The  end  of  the  world  for — me." 


XXI 

T^\OCTOR  UNDERWOOD  looked  at  his  visi- 
•"•^  tor  critically.  The  puzzled  frown  on  Or- 
cutt's  face  was  deeper  than  ordinary.  And  his  usual 
buoyancy  was  lacking.  They  were  in  the  doctor's 
study,  an  enormous  high-ceiled  room  that  persisted 
in  looking  big  and  gaunt  despite  the  combined  efforts 
of  the  occupant  and  a  competent  decorator  to  make 
it  look  low-ceilinged  and  cosy.  It  faced  the  east; 
this  particular  morning  it  was  flooded  with  sunshine, 
a  welcome  visitor  after  a  week  of  dull  gray  days. 

"The  sun  hasn't  been  out  like  this  since  I  was  at 
your  house,"  remarked  the  doctor.  "You  were  going 
to  sit  for  your  picture.  Did  you  bring  the  proofs?" 

"Yes,"  returned  Orcutt,  and  laid  an  envelope  on 
the  flat-top  desk  beside  him.  The  doctor  reached 
for  it  eagerly.  He  opened  the  envelope  and  ran  his 
eyes  over  the  proofs  in  swift  appraisal. 

"How  is  life  going  now?"  he  questioned.  "Sat- 
isfied ? — Happy  ?" 

"Underwood,"  said  the  other.  "If  it's  a  mania 
that  makes  my  wife  afraid  of  me,  it's  a  mania 
founded  on  something  that's  beyond  my  ability  to 
overcome.  She's  sick." 

i59 


160  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

"You " 

"I  was  brutal.  But  God  knows  my  intentions 
weren't.  I  want  her  happiness.  I  want  to  get  the 
sick  terror  out  of  her  eyes.  It  wrings  my  heart. 
I  had  a  talk  with  Mrs.  Lorme  before  coming  here. 
She  sent  for  me.  I  shall  take  Vance  to  the  Lormes' 
Florida  home  after  his  operation.  Mrs.  Orcutt  in- 
tends to  remain  in  New  York.  Underwood,  I  want 
you  to  treat  her.  I  have  consented  to  this  arrange- 
ment almost  wholly  so  that  she  may  have  time  to 
get  over  her  fright  and  be  under  your  care  without 
my  disturbing  presence  around." 

"I  never  treat  a  woman,"  answered  the  alienist. 

"I  know.  But  you  will  treat  Mrs.  Orcutt.  No 
other  physician  could  understand  the  case  as  you 
do." 

The  alienist  remained  silent  for  some  while,  his 
gaze  on  the  proofs  in  his  hands.  When  he  spoke 
it  was  abruptly. 

"Orcutt,  I'm  going  to  give  you  a  blow.  It  has 
to  do  with  Mrs.  Orcutt.  I  wanted  her  and  you  to 
have  it  out  alone.  I  advised  you  as  I  did  purposely 
to  try  to  force  her  hand.  I  was  in  hopes  that  you 
had  come  to  tell  me  that  she  had  told  you  her 
trouble.  But  it's  left  to  me.  And  the  only  way 
to  give  a  blow  between  the  eyes  is  to  hit  out 
squarely." 

Deftly  extracting  one  of  the  proofs  and  taking 
a  photograph  from  the  table  where  it  lay  face  down- 


F  \ 


'Gail !'  he  cried  hoarsely.    'She  is  not  my — Page  161 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  161 

ward,  Morris  Underwood  handed  the  two  to  the 
waiting  man. 

Orcutt  looked  at  them,  drew  them  nearer  to  his 
eyes,  looked  at  them  again,  stared  at  the  two  pre- 
sentments with  a  dull  comprehension  that  somehow 
saw  yet  could  not  believe.  He  gazed  from  them 
to  the  alienist,  his  healthy  face  pallid  and  covered 
with  cold  moisture. 

"These  are  the  pictures  of " 

"Yourself  and  the  'other  George  Orcutt,'  "  com- 
pleted the  alienist  in  significant  tones. 

Fascinated,  Orcutt's  eyes  returned  to  the  pic- 
tures, both  left  face  profiles,  both  singularly  alike, 
yet  in  two  respects — contour  of  the  backs  of  the 
heads  and  the  bridge  outlines  of  the  noses — so 
strikingly  unlike  that  a  glance  sufficed  to  reveal  that 
they  were  the  likenesses  of  two  individuals,  not 
two  likenesses  of  one.  His  nerveless  hands  relaxed, 
and,  without  his  knowledge,  the  objects  he  had  been 
holding  fell  to  the  floor,  the  cardboard  with  a  slight 
thud,  the  paper  fluttering  noisily  against  a  table- 
leg.  His  face  grew  still  more  ashen. 

"Gail  1"  he  cried  hoarsely.     "She  is  not  my " 

''Come,  let  me  give  you  a  stimulant,"  said  the 
physician,  fussing  over  a  medical  case  on  the  desk. 

"Sit  down,  Underwood."  The  voice  was  shaky 
but  peremptory.  "How  long  have  you  known — 
this?" 

"Since  the  day  you  first  came  here,"  was  the  terse 
reply. 


1 62  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

"You  mean  that  you  suspected  that  I  was  not 
George  Orcutt?" 

"I  knew  you  were  not.  Let  me  explain.  About 
four  days  before  the  murder  Orcutt  and  the  artist 
dined  at  Sherry's.  I  had  a  table  facing  them.  I 
was  with  Doctor  Addington.  He  knew  the  two 
men  by  reputation  and  regaled  me  with  their  his- 
tories, particularly  Emmet's,  whose  paintings  he 
praised  extravagantly — the  doctor  goes  in  for  art 
and  likes  to  think  himself  a  connoisseur.  I  was  men- 
tally fagged  and  enjoyed  the  gossip  as  I  do  a  novel 
when  tired.  I  sat  where  I  had  a  perfect  left  face 
view  of  Orcutt.  I  studied  his  head  carefully,  an  in- 
stinctive habit,  and  would  have  known  it  in  forty 
years  and  when  and  where  I  saw  it.  I  studied  Em- 
met's also — a  much  better  head  than  Orcutt's.  I 
was  interested  in  reading  about  the  murder  and 
rather  amused  over  the  plea  of  insanity.  My 
opinion  of  Orcutt  excluded  a  sensibility  that  would 
succumb  to  a  shock.  Any  head  trouble  he  would 
have  would  be  paresis.  But  Allen  Scott,  one  of  the 
alienists  who  examined  him,  is  a  wonder  in  his  line 
and  beyond  any  bribery.  I  was  really  disturbed  over 
the  matter.  On  top  of  this  I  was  asked  to  receive 
the  patient  in  my  hospital.  I  was  full,  but  so  great 
was  my  interest  that  I  gave  up  my  bedroom  to  you 
and  stacked  up  here  in  the  study  till  I  had  a  vacant 
room." 

The  narrator  stopped  to  draw  a  chair  forward 
for  his  feet,  then  tilted  himself  back  comfortably. 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  163 

"My  brother  alienists,  the  State,  his  wife,  said 
that  you  were  George  Orcutt.  I  received  you  as 
George  Orcutt,  doctored  you  as  George  Orcutt,  dis- 
missed you  as — George  Orcutt." 

"Why?" 

The  doctor  smiled  and  directed  his  gaze  a  few 
moments  to  the  window  opposite  and  the  view  of 
snow-covered  fields  beyond. 

"Lucas  Emmet  was  dead — justice  thwarted  or 
righted  could  not  help  him;  a  little  less  wrangling 
than  more  would  not  wreck  the  State.  It  resolved 
itself  into  a  question  of  whether  I  should  accept 
or  challenge  a  lady's  word." 

His  listener  shrank  as  one  who  is  expecting  a 
blow. 

"Underwood,"  said  he,  in  tense  voice,  "we  will 
leave  Mrs.  Orcutt  out  of  the  discussion." 

"You  are  willing,  then,  that  the  whole  matter 
should  drop  right  here?"  questioned  his  friend,  his 
voice  hardening  perceptibly.  "For  that  is  how  it 
stands.  We  must  either  face  things  as  they  are 
or  close  the  case  without  further  discussion.  Mrs. 
Orcutt  knows  you  are  not  her  husband;  she  is  pur- 
posely using  you  as  a  tool  to  save  the  real  Orcutt; 
and  she  is  not  playing  her  game  squarely.  She 
forced  George  Orcutt's  name  and  vile  reputation 
on  you.  All  right,  hers  was  a  desperate  situation; 
we'll  not  criticise  her  on  that  score.  But  when  she 
wantonly  arouses  in  you  a  passion  destructive  of 


1 64  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

your  peace  and  happiness  she  is  going  beyond  the 
rules  of  even  a  game  like  hers." 

"My  God — my  God!"  muttered  the  hoarse  voice. 
"The  horror  of  these  months  for  her!" 

"Her?  Think  of  yourself!  Who  are  you? 
Who  beside  yourself  is  being  sacrificed  for  her 
benefit?" 

The  alienist  smiled  ironically  at  Orcutt's  bewil- 
dered look.  The  bewilderment  changed  slowly  to 
blank  horror. 

"There  is  someone  waiting I  have  always 

somehow  known "     He  shivered  slightly. 

"Who  is— it,  Underwood?" 

"God  knows !"  was  the  grave  response.  "I  know 
only  that  you  are  not  George  Orcutt.  I  have  endea- 
vored without  betraying  the  secret  to  find  out  who 
you  may  be.  No  institution  in  the  city  or  environs, 
public  or  private,  has  record  of  such  as  you  on  its 
books.  My  advertisements,  carefully  worded  so  as 
not  to  tell  anything  to  those  who  did  not  know  you, 
would  surely  have  brought  answer  from  one  who 
did.  I  have  learned  nothing  except  the  mere  fact 
that  you  are  not  the  man  you  are  claimed  to  be.  Nor 
have  I  formed  an  hypothesis.  Mrs.  Orcutt  knows 
and  Mrs.  Orcutt  must  tell." 

Orcutt  did  not  answer  directly.  He  sat  a  long 
while  in  stony  silence.  Then  he  laughed,  a  jarring, 
hideously  mirthful  outburst. 

"I  accept  the  role  of  George  Orcutt.     I  shall  go 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  165 

away  alone  and  leave  her  in  peace.    And  you  shall 
leave  her  in  peace,  damn  you!" 

The  doctor  folded  his  arms  and  gazed  steadily 
at  his  friend.  His  expression  partook  of  the  God- 
like, the  magnanimous  toleration  of  a  Father  Incar- 
nate. Morris  Underwood's  childhood  had  been 
bleak,  devoid  of  sentiment  and  almost  devoid  of 
tenderness;  in  budding  manhood  he  had  fallen  in 
love  with  a  worldly  woman,  who  had  played  with 
him  in  the  thoughtlessly  cruel  way  that  some  women 
delight  in — using  him  as  a  foil  to  quicken  an  unre- 
sponsive admirer  to  action.  The  youth  Underwood 
emerged  from  the  affair  a  man,  his  heart  encased  in 
a  steel  covering  that  made  him  impervious  to 
woman's  most  alluring  witcheries.  Nor  was  it 
unsheathed  to  any  one.  He  espoused  reason,  gave 
himself  wholly  to  his  profession  and  viewed  human- 
ity in  two  aspects:  patients  on  whom  to  lavish  his 
surpassing  skill,  and  crowds  apart  from  himself  to 
study  for  his  enlightenment  and  amusement.  But 
he  had  dammed,  not  dried  up  the  love  stream 
within  him.  From  the  first  encounter  with  his 
patient  known  as  George  Orcutt,  trickles  of  affec- 
tion began  to  find  their  way  through  unsuspected 
crevices,  trickles  that  grew  rapidly  to  veritable  pools 
of  affection — a  tender,  indulgent,  unselfish  affection 
that  was  willing  to  give  all  and  ask  nothing.  He 
was  Jacob  and  this  his  Benjamin. 

Orcutt's  haggard  face   flushed  under  his   com- 


1 66  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

passionate  gaze;  flushed,  then  crinkled  to  a  sort  of 
ghostly  humor. 

"I'm  an  ingrate,  Underwood.  And  a  fool.  I 
know  it.  Only — I'm  willing  to  be  both  ingrate  and 
fool  to  help  her." 

"But  not  a  scoundrel,"  voiced  the  other  quickly. 

Pallor  settled  on  Orcutt's  forehead  and  cheeks 
again. 

"You  think  there  is — some  one? A — a 

— wife  perhaps? But  no!  Gail  would 

never  have  consented " 

"Bah!"  grunted  the  alienist.  "A  female  will  sac- 
rifice any  one  to  save  her  young.  It  was  for  the 
boy's  sake,  not  the  husband's,  she  consented  to  play 
such  a  hazardous  game.  You  say  you  feel  that 
there  is  some  one  waiting  for  you.  Are  you  willing 
to  go  on  in  ignorance  of  whom  it  is — letting  the 
some  one  wait? — Wife? — Child?" 

There  was  a  stony  silence. 


XXII 

'"T^HERE  is  no  wife,"  pronounced  Orcutt  posi- 
tively, at  length.  "When  you  first  told  me 
about  Gail  and  Vance  it  brought  no  feeling  of  my 
being  husband  and  father.  The  thought  was  new, 
alien,  and  it  took  me  weeks  after  I  knew  them  to 
feel  that  they  were  really  mine.  With  love  came 
the  natural  feeling  of  possession.  But — there  is 
some  one.  From  the  beginning  I  have  had  a  sense 
of  being  wanted  somewhere  else,  that  some  one  was 
waiting  for  me.  I'm  inclined  to  give  full  credence 
to  my  feelings — they  are  memory's  expressions, 
shadowy  but  real." 

"Right,"  said  the  alienist.  "I  have  kept  a  record 
of  them  and  have  found  in  every  instance  that 
your  'feelings'  are  accurate  barometers.  You  'felt' 
that  Orcutt's  possessions,  his  manner  of  living,  his 
friends  and  servants  and  paramours,  all  his  past, 
had  never  belonged  to  you.  Not  once  have  you 
'felt'  an  intimacy  with  things  and  people  in  your 
new  life.  The  greatest  joke  of  all  to  you  at  first 
was  the  thought  of  a  wife  and  child.  I  think  we 
may  safely  trust  the  mute  expressions  of  your  sub- 

167 


1 68  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

conscious  memory  to  guide  us.  I  believe,  there- 
fore, that  you  have  no  wife  or  child,  and  have 
believed  it  from  the  time  I  first  told  you  of  Mrs. 
Orcutt  and  Vance.  You  are  an  outdoors  man,  have 
lived  an  active  life,  and  it  is  not  unlikely  that  it  is 
your  work  that  is  calling  to  you,  the  'some  one'  a 
possible  partner  or  employer.  I  have  eliminated 
the  idea  of  a  mother — for  mother  love  would  have 
found  you  if  you  came  from  the  other  end  of  the 
earth.  I  was  trying  to  bluff  you  into  doing  for  a 
wife  what  I  now  fear  you  will  not  willingly  do  for 
yourself — a  contingency  I  had  not  counted  on.  You 
see,"  with  quiet  scorn,  "I  forgot  that  you  might 
belong  to  the  braying  class." 

Orcutt  rose,  his  hands  clasped  loosely  behind  him. 
He  walked  to  the  fire-place,  turned  his  back  on  the 
sputtering  logs.  He  measured  glances  with  his 
friend  in  a  deliberate,  uncompromising  way. 

"I  shall  protect  her.  And  the  boy.  They  are 
mine  in  spirit." 

"You  are  mine  in  spirit;  I  shall  protect  you," 
muttered  the  doctor,  under  his  breath.  Aloud  he 
questioned,  "How  long  will  you  be  content  to  go  on 
not  knowing  who  you  are?" 

Orcutt  walked  to  a  window,  stood  a  few  minutes, 
walked  to  another,  still  in  meditation,  turned 
abruptly,  his  face  distorted  with  misery. 

"I  taste  the  hell  of  it  already.  I  must  know  who 
I  am,  who  is  waiting.  It  is  not  an  employer,  not  a 
partner;  it  is  a — woman." 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  169 

"Sister,  sweetheart,  friend,  who?"  plied  the 
alienist,  stopping  after  each  word,  watching  intently 
the  haggard  face. 

"I  don't  know,"  was  the  dismal  answer.  "I  only 
know  that  there  is  a  woman  who  needs  me.  Her 
name  is  Victoria.  Last  Wednesday  I  heard  a 
woman  in  the  park  call  'Victoria'  to  a  child,  and  I 
had  something  of  the  same  sensation  as  when  I 
uttered  the  word  'gorilla.'  That  is,  it  seemed  as 
though  I  was  about  to  remember,  that  something 
inside  my  brain  was  loosening.  But  there  was  no 
terror  aroused  by  the  name;  only — tenderness." 
The  perspiration  ran  from  his  face.  "My  God! 
who  is  that  woman?" 

"Pray  your  good  angel  it  is  a  sweetheart  and 
that  she  is  still  waiting  for  you,  ready  to  heal  your 
wounds,"  uttered  the  doctor  fervently.  "Although," 
he  added,  "there  may  be  no  wounds  to  heal.  When 
memory  of  your  past  returns  your  consciousness 
may  revert  to  the  point  where  memory  was  lost, 
and  start  from  there  as  though  there  had  been  no 
lapse  of  time  between.  The  experiences  of  the 
intervening  months  may  be  completely  lost;  you 
may  wake  to  find  Mrs.  Orcutt,  Vance,  myself,  all 
those  you  now  know,  utter  strangers." 

Orcutt  clutched  the  table  for  support. 

"Not  that!"  he  cried. 

"Why  not?"  growled  the  doctor.  "Better  lose 
all  memory  of  the  woman  than  wreck  your  life  with 
an  unsatisfied  passion.  Mrs.  Orcutt  is  not  for  you." 


i7o  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

"Underwood!"  Orcutt  was  at  his  side,  a  com- 
pelling hand  on  his  arm.  "No  matter  what  hap- 
pens, save  to  me  my  consciousness  of  the  life  I  have 
lived  as  George  Orcutt.  I  want  it  all,  even  its  tor- 
ment. Don't  rob  me  of  her  and  Vance;  don't  rob 
me  of  yourself;  don't — don't!  If  I  should  awaken 
only  to  the  past  you  can  synthesize  my  present  expe- 
riences with  my  past Yes,  you  can.  By  some 

artifice  of  the  alienist  you  can  connect  the  side 
stream  of  consciousness  with  the  main  stream.  It 
has  been  done.  It  can  be  done  by  you  for  me. 
Promise  me,  my  friend." 

"The  other  woman  who  is  waiting?"  said  the 
doctor.  "If  it  is  a  sweetheart? — if  you  are  bound? 
— if  your  life  would  be  worth  more  to — not  your- 
self— but  to  society,  by  losing  the  side  stream,  what 
then?" 

"Promise  me,"  reiterated  Orcutt. 

"I  can't.  As  your  physician,  I  question  any  exter- 
nal power  over  you.  As  your  friend,  I  would  wish 
you  to  forget  Mrs.  Orcutt  at  any  cost  to  myself.  I 
have  seen  too  many  wrecks  caused  by  the  machina- 
tions of  soulless  women  to  aid  voluntarily  in 
your  damnation.  Instead  of  assisting,  I  should 
rather " 

"Not  so  fast,"  came  imperiously.  "The  whole 
matter  rests  with  me.  It  is  for  me  to  determine 
my  own  course — if  I  choose  damnation,  it  is  riot  for 
you  to  gainsay  me.  And  as  for  another  woman — 
if  there  is  one  I  am  bound  to,  God  help  me!  I'll 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  171 

do  my  duty  toward  her  afterward — if  I  know.  But 
Mrs.  Orcutt  shall  not  be  sacrificed  to  her  or  to  you 
or  to  any  one  in  this  world;  do  you  understand  me?" 

"Get  Mrs.  Orcutt  to  reveal  her  secret;  she  shall 
not  keep  it,"  pronounced  Underwood  in  tone  of 
finality. 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  would  publicly  betray 
her!" 

"If  necessary.  It  is  one  thing  for  her  to  save 
her  husband  and  shield  her  son  from  shame — I  can 
and  did  admire  her  fortitude,  her  brigand  bravery. 
It  is  another  thing  for  her  to  injure  an  innocent  man, 
to  wreck  the  happiness  of  another  human  creature. 
It  was  not  in  my  mental  contract  for  her  to  make 
a  sacrifice  of  you." 

Without  replying,  Orcutt  walked  to  the  chair  he 
had  vacated,  seated  himself,  chin  resting  on  his 
chest,  a  hand  automatically  plucking  the  loose  flesh 
between  the  eyes,  his  habitual  attitude  when  in  deep 
meditation.  The  doctor's  little  blinking  eyes  bent 
upon  him,  grimly  humorous.  He  wanted  to  laugh, 
laugh  roaringly,  albeit  his  heart  felt  like  lead. 

He  had  failed  to  take  into  account  the  alchemy 
of  love,  its  blinding,  stupefying  power.  He  had 
expected  his  friend  to  shout  with  delight  over  the 
news  that  he  was  not  George  Orcutt;  he  had  thought 
to  deal  with  a  man  frantic  with  eagerness  to  learn 
his  true  identity;  he  had  believed  that  he  would 
descend  upon  the  woman  and  hotly  demand  his 
secret — his  infatuation  killed  at  a  blow  by  knowl- 


i72  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

edge  of  her  perfidy  and  wanton  playing  with  his 
affections.  In  his  mental  conception  of  the  scene, 
it  was  for  him,  Morris  Underwood,  to  defend  nec- 
essarily the  woman  from  the  righteous  wrath  of  an 
outraged  man. 

Yes;  it  was  grimly  funny.  He  had  made  the 
mistake  of  judging  this  man  by  himself — his  own 
love  had  died  and  hate  had  been  born  the  very  hour 
he  knew  he  was  deceived  by  his  temptress.  There 
had  been  no  pity;  only  a  relentless  scorn  that  yet 
lived,  shadowing  his  regard  for  all  women.  He  had 
known  that  men  made  fools  of  themselves  over  the 
frail  charms  of  womankind,  but  he  had  deemed  all 
such  inherently  weak,  fools  by  birth,  the  woman 
merely  the  incident  that  revealed  a  silliness  which 
would  have  flared  out  as  easily  over  anything  else 
— cards,  drink,  speculation,  freakish  fads  or  "isms." 

But  the  man  before  him  was  strong  in  character, 
resolute,  forceful,  with  a  powerful  will  and  the 
saving  grace  of  subtle  humor.  Was  love  of  the 
sexes,  after  all,  a  greater  thing  than  he  had 
dreamed?  Could  he,  the  alienist,  be  now  just 
learning  an  eternal  truth  about  man's  will  and 
man's  mind? 

He  gazed  at  his  friend  as  at  something  new,  won- 
dering how  far  he  had  penetrated  the  man's  nature. 

"Why  did  you  not  keep  me  here  and  save  these 
complications,  knowing  I  was  not  George  Orcutt?" 
asked  the  other,  with  seeming  abruptness. 

The  alienist  started  from  his  reverie,  startled  by 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  173 

the  ringing  tones  on  top  of  his  silent  musings.  Then 
his  face  lighted  with  the  fond  look  a  father  wears 
over  the  cleverness  of  a  precocious  child.  He 
chuckled  softly. 

"A  pertinent  question.  The  answer  simple, 
though.  I  knew  Mrs.  Orcutt's  hand  and  'called,' 
not  knowing  her  ability  to  bluff.  You  were  a  sound 
man,  ready  to  take  your  place  in  the  world;  to  keep 
you  here  longer  would  have  been  an  injustice.  As 
you  know,  I  had  tried  to  hypnotize  you,  hoping  by 
that  method  to  bring  about  disintegration  and  learn 
your  past.  I  explained  this  to  you  at  the  beginning 
and  you  said  you  wanted  to  be  hypnotized  to  that 
end  and  would  help  me.  But  subconsciously  you 
willed  not  'to  be ;  your  nature  rebelled  so  strongly 
against  surrendering  itself  to  the  will  of  another  that 
it  encompassed  my  defeat  and  your  own — for  I  give 
you  credit  for  trying  to  help  as  far  as  lay  in  your 
conscious  power.  The  mysterious  underlying  self, 
the  masked  performer  who  keeps  us  alienists  always 
guessing,  took  a  hand — and  won."  He  chuckled 
again,  a  little  gurgle  of  amusement  over  his  own 
discomfiture,  and  added: 

"And  Mrs.  Orcutt  'raised'  me  and  'called.'  I 
had  expected  to  force  her  into  a  confession.  I  was 
magnanimously  prepared  to  make  terms  with  her, 
giving  her  time,  if  his  place  of  residence  required 
it,  to  get  her  husband  beyond  the  arm  of  the  law. 
He  was  then,  and  is  now,  in  Paris.  Wait;  we'll  dis- 
cuss that  later.  I  had  not  then  located  him  or  I 


i74  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

might  have  called  her  bluff — I  say  might,  for  I'm 
not  sure  I  shouldn't  have  done  just  as  I  did.  I  like 
gameness.  Frightened  stiff,  she  yet  never  batted  an 
eye.  Not  knowing  where  the  real  Orcutt  was  and 
having  nothing  but  my  bare  word  against  hers,  I 
decided  on  playing  a  waiting  game,  feeling  that  she 
would  soon  find  you  too  much  to  handle  and  would 
voluntarily  confess,  making  what  terms  she  could. 
You,  of  course,  will  think  it  strange,  but  I  didn't 
apprehend  your  losing  your  heart  to  her.  I  over- 
looked the  obvious;  I  forgot  that  it  was  youth  and 
youth,  and  the  danger  of  such  propinquity  to  a 
boy's  inflammable  mind.  And  you  were  so  close- 
lipped  I  didn't  know  of  your  passion  till  it  was 
beyond  my  power  to  save  you — if  it  ever  was  within 
it.  When  a  man  wants  to  be  damned  he  usually  is." 

Orcutt's  lips  set  doggedly. 

"If  you  call  it  being  damned  to  love  a  woman, 
all  right.  An  hour  ago  I  believed  that  Gail  Orcutt 
was  my  wife.  I  shall  defend  her  as  truly  now  as  I 
should  have  defended  her  then  had  you  or  anyone 
else  attempted  to  harm  her." 

The  men  measured  glances.  The  physician  smiled 
pityingly  even  while  his  eyes  remained  cold. 

"Mrs.  Orcutt  must  tell  what  she  knows,"  he 
asseverated.  "The  consequences  of  her  confession 
depend  on  herself.  I  shall  not  go  out  of  my  way 
to  harm  her — nor  to  help  her.  As  I  told  you  once 
before,  I  do  not  care  about  Mrs.  Orcutt.  I  am  inter- 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  175 

ested  now  in  but  one  thing — to  get  her  to  confess 
the  truth  and  the  whole  truth." 

Orcutt  rose,  preparatory  to  departure,  and  stood 
with  clenched  hands,  beads  of  moisture  breaking 
from  his  forehead.  "Do  you  understand,  Under- 
wood, that  I  have  lost  my  wife — my  wife!" 

The  alienist  sat  with  head  bent  in  deep  thought 
long  after  the  door  closed. 

"If  he  only  has  lost  her,"  he  muttered.  "If  he 
only  has!" 


XXIII 

T^ASTENING  George  Orcutt's  big  mink-lined 
overcoat  about  him,  the  man  who  had  learned 
he  was  not  George  Orcutt  stopped  before  entering 
the  waiting  limousine  and  gazed  at  it  in  a  curious, 
retrospective  way.  Bryan,  the  chauffeur,  richly  fur- 
clad,  revealing  the  wealth  of  the  owner  as  fully  as 
the  sumptuous  car,  ran  quickly  from  the  nearby 
spot  where  he  had  been  chatting  with  an  attendant. 

"Anything  wrong  with  the  machine,  Mr.  Orcutt?" 

"No." 

"Home,  sir?" 

"Home?"  repeated  the  other,  with  peculiar  inflec- 
tion. "Yes,  home,  Bryan,"  said  he,  entering  the 
limousine,  shivering  strangely  as  the  man  tucked  the 
fur  robe  about  him. 

Home — wife — child ? 

Something  came  to  his  throat,  so  unusual  a  some- 
thing that  it  was  a  few  moments  before  he  recog- 
nized it  for  a  sob.  He  ached  with  misery.  It  was 
unbelievable  that  Gail  was  not  his  wife,  unbelievable 
that  she  had  borne  the  boy,  his  boy,  for  another! 
He  felt  himself  shrivel  with  the  scorching  agony  of 

176 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  177 

that  thought.  His  misery  before  had  been  but  a 
zephyr.  His  wife  would  be  his  wife  again,  inev- 
itably. 

A  forgotten  past  and  a  future  that  loomed  for- 
biddingly dark  with  the  bitterness  of  unsatisfied 
desires — that  was  now  his  whole  fortune.  No  wife, 
no  child,  no  children  of  his  and  hers  to  be  called 
into  bloom  from  the  flower  garden  of  awaiting  souls. 
Renunciation,  the  dreary  dole  of  trying  to  forget, 
the  going  on  with  part  of  himself  shriven  away — 
purgatory,  with  the  door  of  his  paradise  closed  fast 
against  him. 

It  came  to  him,  but  came  dully,  lying  tasteless  in 
his  mouth,  that  his  body  and  his  soul  were  free  of 
the  sins  of  George  Orcutt.  He  had  never  been 
faithless  to  her — no ! — but  neither  had  she  lain  in 
his  arms !  There  was  no  joy  over  losing  George 
Orcutt's  disgraceful  past  when  alongside  was  lost 
the  lawful  right  to  George  Orcutt's  wife  and  George 
Orcutt's  child. 

Yet — she  had  not  loathed  him,  this  unwitting 
Orcutt  who  did  not  know  his  own  name.  The 
thought  came  as  a  gleam  of  gold  to  his  leaden  mis- 
ery. She  liked  him,  she  had  said.  A  weak  senti- 
ment in  answer  to  his  passionate  love,  but  he  clung 
to  it  as  to  something  wonderfully  precious.  It  had 
rung  true.  If  all  else  had  been  acting,  that  one 
moment  had  been  real.  She  had  looked  into  his 
eyes  with  honest  liking  in  her  heart  for  the  man 
she  saw  before  her.  Nor  had  her  terror  been  caused 


178  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

by  him  simply  as  himself;  in  truth,  she  could  not  see 
him  as  himself — his  false  position  made  him  per- 
force a  fearsome  person  to  her.  Even  so,  she  had 
viewed  him  with  friendly  regard,  fearlessly  enjoying 
his  society,  filled  with  a  frank  gladness. 

She,  like  himself,  was  a  victim  of  that  arch  vil- 
lain, the  "other"  George  Orcutt — a  reality  now. 
And  it  was  for  him,  the  unwitting  George  Orcutt,  to 
protect  her  from  the  consequences  of  the  villainy 
of  her  lawful  husband.  To  protect  her? — he  could 
do  that,  and  would  do  it,  though  the  heavens  and 
a  thousand  Underwoods  were  against  him.  She  was 
his  to  protect,  ay,  to  that  extent  she  was  his  own — 
his  to  protect! 

He  found  her  in  the  library,  a  book  in  her  hand 
that  he  divined  she  had  snatched  up  as  she  recog- 
nized his  step  approaching;  he  had  heard  her  rest- 
lessly pacing  the  floor  as  he  had  gone  to  his  room. 
She  was  dressed  in  black,  a  color  she  seldom  wore; 
her  face  was  pale,  a  translucent  pallor  that,  com- 
bined with  the  black  of  her  long  lashes  and  the 
bronze  mass  of  her  hair,  gave  to  her  loveliness  the 
charm  of  mystical  poetry.  Her  eyes  wistfully  ques- 
tioned, sending  a  quick  look  into  his,  and  as  quickly 
turning  away  again. 

As  he  beheld  her  he  could  think  of  nothing  but  a 
frightened  child,  prepared  to  be  brave,  pathetically 
wishful  that  she  could  escape  the  encounter,  yet 
meeting  it  with  lip-smiling  composure.  He  knew 
now  the  reason  for  the  constant  inspection  of  his 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  179 

countenance  about  which  he  had  so  often  wondered: 
she  was  watching  for  the  first  danger  signal  of  the 
discovery  that  she  was  found  out.  He  felt  its  piti- 
ableness,  and  his  lips  trembled  with  his  stress  of 
emotion. 

"How  is  Doctor  Underwood?" 

"Gail,"  said  he,  huskily,  "you  say  there  is  some- 
thing between  us  that  you  cannot  tell  me.  Listen! 
There  is  nothing  that  you  cannot  tell  me.  Not 
George  Orcutt,  your  husband,  but  the  man  before 
you — your  friend.  You  are  in  grave  trouble.  I 
see  it.  I  know  it.  This  cannot  go  on.  Give  me 
your  confidence  now;  perhaps  later  I  may  not  have 
the  same  power  to  help  you.  Whatever  it  is  I  shall 
understand.  If  you  have  injured  me  in  some  way, 
in  any  way;  if  it  were  a  crime  as  black  as  hell — I 
shall  forgive  you." 

He  waited  for  a  little,  then  leaned  forward  and 
reached  out  his  hands,  his  face  intensely  eager. 

"Soul  to  soul,  Gail,"  he  pleaded.  "You  may  trust 
me,  on  my  honor." 

Her  eyes  looked  into  his,  then  turned  to  the  sput- 
tering flame  of  the  gas  logs.  She  drew  nearer  to 
the  fire.  She  felt  cold.  Her  body  was  numb  with 
emptiness.  To  cry  out  her  trouble  to  him — it  was 
a  temptation  almost  beyond  her  resistance.  In  this 
moment  she  felt  that  she  could  empty  her  tired 
brain  of  its  utmost  content.  Only — there  was  no 
content  there — for  him.  She  was  barren  of  his 
name;  of  his  home;  of  his  past.  She  should  only 


i8o  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

take  away  from  him  what  he  had.  Unworthy  as 
it  was,  the  name  George  Orcutt  was  now  his,  and 
George  Orcutt's  home  and  income.  He  had  Vance, 
who  was  now  as  truly  his  own  son  as  though  he  had 
helped  create  him.  And  he  had  a  wife.  And  little 
as  he  had  her  now,  that  little  would  seem  satisfac- 
tion against  his  desolation  without  her. 

Her  lips  could  not  open  over  the  recital.  She 
was  sorry  for  herself;  she  was  sorrier  yet  for  the 
man  beside  her.  In  spirit  she  gathered  him  to  her 
breast  and  cried  over  him.  But  her  own  suffering 
and  her  sympathy  for  him  had  no  power  to  change 
the  course  she  had  taken.  She  felt  herself  in  a 
closed  chute  hurtling  forward  to — success  or  black 
disaster?  She  could  not  know  which.  She  could 
only  go  on.  The  same  necessity  drove  her  now  as 
had  driven  her  the  day  of  the  murder — to  save 
Vance  from  knowing  that  his  father  was  a  mur- 
derer. 

The  man  spoke  again. 

"Tell  me,  Gail!" 

She  mistook  the  breaking  tenderness  of  his  voice. 
He  was  her  husband,  seeking  to  beat  down  the  bar- 
rier that  kept  her  from  his  embrace.  This  offer  to 
forgive  her  was  a  plea  for  forgiveness  for  himself, 
for  the  wrongs  that  he  believed  he  had  committed 
against  her.  She  was  afraid,  as  always,  of  the 
future,  but  she  had  not  the  faintest  inkling  of  the 
truth  that  he  was  trying  to  convey.  She  had  been 
planning  all  the  morning.  Mrs.  Lorme  had  tele- 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  181 

phoned  her  that  he  had  agreed  to  go  South  with 
Vance  and  leave  her  behind.  Her  spirits  had  risen. 
She  should  have  a  breathing  space.  And  somehow 
she  would  devise  new  ways  and  means  to  protect 
her  secret  and  herself  from  him. 

But — there  were  several  weeks  yet  before  he 
left — weeks  that  must  hold  no  recurrence  of  last 
night,  or — the  blood  surged  her  cheeks — of  the 
morning  that  preceded  it.  She  raised  her  eyes  calmly 
to  his. 

"I  was  hysterical.  The  'something'  was  just  a 
chimera  of  my  fevered  brain." 

"You  mean  that  you  will  not  tell  me." 

"There  is  nothing  to  tell." 

Their  eyes  held,  questioned. 

UI  am  asking  you  for  your  own  sake,"  he  urged. 
"I  have  nothing  to  ask  for  myself  now — or  ever 
again,  Gail.  Please,  my  beloved,  give  me  your  con- 
fidence. No  one  can  serve  you  as  I  can." 

But  to  her  it  was  still  the  husband  speaking.  And 
he  was  very  near  her.  She  looked  down  at  his  out- 
stretched hands — and  felt  herself  trembling.  She 
wanted  to  put  her  own  within  them. 

"I  do  not  want  you  to  serve  me!"  Her  voice 
was  high-keyed  with  fear.  She  drew  away.  "I 
have  nothing  to  tell  you.  You  must  believe  me." 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair.  She  refused  to  give 
him  her  secret.  His  lips  closed.  He  was  through. 
Whatever  she  had  to  tell  must  come  to  him  of  her 
own  accord. 


1 82  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

She  saw  his  grieved  eyes,  and  dropped  her  lashes 
quickly  over  her  own — to  hide  their  tenderness. 
"Ohl" 
It  was  Vance. 


XXIV 

T  TE  ran  forward  and  kissed  his  mother,  then 
•*•  •*•  sidled  over  to  his  father,  edging  between  his 
knees.  Orcutt  caught  him  close  in  his  arms. 

"That's  a  bear  hug,  Papa." 

"Pretty  like,"  was  the  response. 

The  child  threw  his  arms  around  the  man's  neck. 

"And  this  is  a  bear  hug,  a  little  bear's  big — big — 
big — hug.  Oh,  I  love  you  a  million  tons'  times." 

"Sure,  partner?  Now,  tell  me  what  love  Ss, 
and  what  makes  you  love  your  daddy." 

The  boy  looked  up  quizzically,  expecting  his 
papa's  eyes  to  be  merry,  too.  Finding  them  serious, 
he  quickly  sobered;  whatever  his  papa  did  was  his 
cue  to  do  likewise.  He  took  up  the  matter  with  a 
meditative  gravity,  natural  to  him,  charming  despite 
its  unchildishness. 

"Love  is  a  nice  feeling  inside  us — a  nice  warm 
feeling  that — that  makes  us  feel  good  like — like — 
getting  near  a  radiator  when  we're  cold.  It  buzzes 

inside  us,  too,  just  like  the  steam  sometimes " 

His  voice  quickened  with  the  delight  of  discovery. 
"Oh,  and  it  shakes  us,  too,  Papa,  and  bubbles  over, 

183 


1 84  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

then" — he  was  a-quiver  with  excitement — "we  do 
bear  hugs." 

"Let  off  steam  so  we  won't  burst,"  laughed  the 
man.  "Good!  Now  the  next  question — why  do 
you  love  your  daddy?" 

"That!"  Vance  was  scornful.  "I  just  love  you, 
that's  all."  He  glanced  up  shyly  from  under  the 
heavily  veiled  lids.  "I  asked  you  the  other  day 
why  the  birds  love  each  other,  Papa,  and  you  said 
'cause  they're  mates.  Well,"  throwing  out  his  chest 
unconsciously,  "we're  mates,  aren't  we?"  He  gig- 
gled softly.  "What  makes  you  love  me,  Papa?  You 
tell  me — then  I'll  tell  you." 

"Mates.  That's  it,  partner,"  the  man  whispered, 
drawing  the  child  again  close  in  his  arms. 

"Why — why,  you're — crying!"  cried  the  boy, 
awed.  "Oh ! — you're  sorry  'cause  I'm  going  to  be 
sick.  You  aren't  afraid  I'll  die,  are  you?  I  won't. 
It's  only  a  little  operation,"  he  soothed,  feeling  very 
big  and  manly  in  his  own  indifference  to  the  her- 
alded illness. 

"The  operation  will  be  day  after  to-morrow," 
interposed  Gail.  "I  saw  Dr.  Beatson  this  afternoon 
while  you  were  away.  He  thinks  it  is  unnecessary 
to  wait;  that  Vance  is  strong  enough  now.  The  sus- 
pense will  be  over  then " 

"And  I  will  go  the  sooner  to  Florida,"  said  Orcutt 
significantly.  "Do  you  ever  pity  your  poor  husband, 
my — wife?" 

"I  am  giving  you  Vance,"  cried  she,  her  voice 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  185 

choking  over  the  words.  "You  will  have  him  while 

I Oh !  I  mustn't  think  of  it — I  must  be  strong 

till  afterwards!  But  I  can't  help  but  think  of  it — 
every  hour  I  see  you  and  Vance  on  the  train  and  I 
alone  watching  you  speed  away." 

"Mama!"  Vance  slid  from  the  man's  knees  and 
ran  quickly  to  her.  "Do  you  mean  you  aren't  going 
with  us?" 

With  a  heroic  effort  the  mother  repressed  her 
feeling  and  bent  an  almost  cheerful  face  over  the 
anxious  upturned  one. 

"Papa  and  I  can't  both  go,  dear.  One  of  us  must 
stay  at  home  because  of  something  you  would  not 
understand  even  if  I  could  tell  you.  Miss  Lauder 
will  take  care  of  you,  and  you  will  have  Papa  for 
company,  and  Aunt  Kate  and  Uncle  Dick." 

"I  want  you,"  he  stated  quietly.  "I  want  you  and 
Papa." 

"You  can  have  only  one  of  us,"  she  returned,  as 
quiet  as  he.  "It  had  better  be  Papa,  I  think." 

The  child  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  deliber- 
ating. He  had  learned  long  ago  to  know  when  to 
protest  was  useless.  That  this  was  one  of  the  times 
he  realized  at  once. 

"I  want  you  both,"  he  repeated.  "Oh!"  clapping 
his  hands.  "I  won't  go  away.  I'll  stay  right  here. 
Ah!"  sighing  his  relief.  Then:  "Why  didn't  you 
think  of  that,  Mama?  That's  easy  as  anything." 

"Too  easy,  dear.  The  doctor  says  you  must  go 
South;  that  you  must  be  out  of  doors  all  day  long 


1 86  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

in  the  warm  sunshine  and  air  till  you're  fully  recov- 
ered. Does  Mother's  boy  think  I  should  send  him 
away  from  me  unless  I  had  to?" 

The  little  face  was  strangely  troubled. 

"I  don't  know." 

He  stared  dazedly  as  his  mother  rose  and  fled 
the  room. 

"I  wish — I  could  understand — things." 

"One  thing  you  must  understand,  partner:  that 
a  man  must  protect  a  woman,  always,  always,"  came 
in  choked  voice.  "We  must  take  care  of  Mama,  you 
and  I,  without  ever  questioning  what  Mama  does; 
see,  partner?" 

"Because  we're  gentlemen?"  queried  the  boy, 
wanting,  as  usual,  to  understand  things. 

"Because  we're  gentlemen,  partner,"  was  the 
grave  answer. 


XXV 

/"T"VHE  breakfast  the  next  morning  was  a  silent 
one,  the  woman's  place  seeming  more  vacant 
than  usual  to  both  child  and  man,  although  it  was 
never  her  custom  to  have  breakfast  with  them.  As 
they  left  the  breakfast  room  they  encountered 
Doctor  Underwood  in  the  hall.  Their  greetings 
over,  the  child  looked  wistfully  from  face,  to  face, 
his  own  unchildishly  sober.  There  was  pain  in  his 
papa's  eyes  and  his  mama  was  crying,  and  the  air 
was  somehow  charged  more  heavily  than  ever  with 
the  mystery  that  he  did  not  like.  He  stood  at  the 
foot  of  the  broad  stairway  as  the  men  reached  the 
upper  landing,  still  sober,  still  wistful,  still  curiously 
pathetic.  Both  looked  down,  drawn  by  the  child's 
aching  sigh. 

"Poor  little  beggar!"  murmured  the  doctor. 

Orcutt  ran  lightly  down  the  steps,  caught  the 
drooping  figure  with  a  single  move  to  his  breast, 
whispered  something  in  the  little  ear. 

"Oh,  oh,  oh,"  shrieked  the  boy  in  a  transport  of 
joy.  "Oh,  Papa!  Sure?  Sure?" 

"Sure,  partner." 

Setting  him  on  his  feet,  Orcutt  moved  swiftly  up 
187 


1 88  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

the  two  imposing  flights  of  stairs  to  his  study.  The 
doctor  was  already  seated. 

"Well,  what  have  you  learned?"  interrogated  the 
alienist  crisply. 

Orcutt  flung  himself  into  a  chair. 

"Um — nothing,"  grunted  the  other.  "I  expected 
as  much.  Now  what?" 

"Hell,  and  then  more  hell!  Damn  you!  If  I 
had  not  been  made  aware  of  other  possible  duties 
— previous  claims " 

"But  now?" 

"I  must  know,  of  course." 

"When?" 

"To-day.  Vance  is  to  be  operated  on  to-morrow. 
I  must  be  here  with  him  till  he  goes  South,  then 
both  his  mother  and  I  must  take  him.  I  just  gave 
him  that  assurance.  Gail  will  not  consent  to  the 
plan  unless  this  matter  is  cleared  up,  and  she  knows 
I  can  no  longer  lay  claims  as  a  husband." 

"The  woman  has  you  hand  and  foot,"  seethed  the 
doctor.  "To  serve  her  you'll  play  the  whelp — for- 
sake another  woman " 

"Another  woman?"  repeated  Orcutt  drearily.  "I 
wonder.  But  it's  Vance  I'm  thinking  of  now.  He 
must  have  his  father  for  a  few  weeks  longer.  His 
heart  is  weak,  as  you  know.  Underwood ! — they're 
my  wife  and  my  boy.  Later,  I'll  do  my  whole  duty 
by — whoever  is  waiting."  He  smiled  grimly.  "I'll 
do  my  duty,  never  fear.  I'm  cursed  with  principle 
— diseased  with  it.  A  blighting  malady  for  a  lover." 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  189 

Blinking  eyes  behind  thick  glasses  scrutinized  the 
haggard  face. 

"Introspection — a  battle — disgruntled  because 
principle's  won,"  was  the  jerky  diagnosis.  "It  saves 
a  fight  with  me,  however.  I  telephoned  Mrs.  Orcutt 
before  I  came  and  made  an  engagement  for  eleven 
o'clock.  The  which  it  is  now.  Come,  we'll  go 
together  and  interview  her." 

"A  moment,  Underwood." 

The  doctor  waited  patiently. 

"Yes?"  he  at  length  encouraged. 

"Mercy — for  her,"  cried  Orcutt. 

"If  she  deserves  it." 

"That  would  be  justice.    I  ask  for  mercy." 

"Urn — mercy?  I'll  wait  till  I  see  how  culpable 
she  is." 

Orcutt  strode  by  him  and  flung  open  the  door. 

"Come,  we'll  turn  on  the  screws  and  laugh  while 
her  heart-strings  snap.  A  tender,  suffering  woman! 
— culpable? — not  culpable?  My  God!" 


XXVI 

received  them  in  the  library.  It  was  a 
large,  sumptuously  furnished  room,  three 
sides  lined  with  books  so  exquisitely  bound  that 
it  looked  more  like  a  show  than  a  working  library. 
Which  it  was.  George  Orcutt's  father  had  been  an 
amateur  collector  of  expensive  special  editions, 
books  with  illustrations  painted  by  the  hands  of 
recognized  artists,  autobiographies  containing  orig- 
inal letters,  verse  whose  whole  text  was  done  by 
hand  in  wonderful  illuminated  lettering.  It  was  a 
collection  to  look  at  and  exclaim  over,  not  primarily 
to  read.  But  it  presented  a  handsome  appearance, 
and,  together  with  the  fine  pictures,  marbles  and 
bronzes,  massive  carved  furniture,  priceless  rugs 
and  draperies,  made  the  room  richly  aesthetic.  The 
gas-lighted  logs  in  the  fire-place  gave  added  color 
and  warmth.  Gail's  gown  of  white  broadcloth  em- 
broidered in  gold  with  deft  touches  of  crimson  made 
the  bizarre  beauty  a  whole. 

"Just  a  word  first,"  she  pronounced  in  trembling 
voice.  "I  thought  this  interview  was  to  be  with 
you  alone,  doctor.  No  matter.  Please  proceed  to 

190 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  191 

it;  only  understand  that  the  relations  between  Mr. 
Orcutt  and  myself  are  purely  personal  and  private. 
Either  as  friend  or  physician,  you  must  not  speak 
for  him.  He  and  I " 

"Ah!"  The  doctor's  prominent  jaw  shot  for- 
ward. "How  was  Mr.  Orcutt  when  you  last  heard 
from  him?  Your  husband  is  lucky  to  have  Doctor 
Manton  for  a  physician — wonderful  man!  tran- 
scendent genius!  He  spent  a  day  with  me  while 
he  was  here  four  years  ago,  a  banner  day  for  me. 
We  lesser  .men  can  only  sit  at  his  feet  in  wonder." 

The  man  who  loved  Gail  Orcutt  watched  her 
face.  He  leapt  forward  and  pushed  a  chair  under 
her  sinking  frame. 

"Don't  be  afraid,  dear.  In  the  end  he'll  be  your 
friend,  as  I  am — as  I  am,  remember." 

The  alienist  seated  himself  by  the  table. 

"You  see,  Mrs.  Orcutt,  he  loves  you.  I  shall 
have  to  fight  a  combination,  I  fear." 

Gail's  lips  were  ashen,  the  brilliant  eyes  stupid 
with  sheer  fright ;  a  greenish  gray  replaced  the  beau- 
tiful pallor.  Always  before  her  fears  had  been 
threaded  with  hope,  her  animation  sustained  by 
the  vivifying  need  of  action  to  thwart,  to  mislead, 
to  convince  and  to  conquer  her  opponent.  Now, 
found  out,  and  at  the  mercy  of  an  enemy,  she  was 
stricken  like  a  flower  scorched  by  the  wind.  Limp 
and  terrified  and  wholly  helpless,  she  crouched 
rather  than  sat — waited  numbly  for  the  crucifying 
end. 


i92  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

Truly  pitiable  as  she  looked,  the  doctor's  eyes 
rested  on  her  coldly;  but  a  sudden  warm  light  rushed 
forth  as  they  raised  to  the  belligerent  face  of  the 
man  standing  protectingly  beside  her,  with  lips 
obstinately  set  and  eyes  that  were  full  of  fight. 

"Mrs.  Orcutt,  your  defender  has  asked  me,  nay, 
pleaded  with  me  and  threatened  me,  to  show  you 
mercy.  His  reason  has  been  that  he  loves  you.  But 
if  I  seem  harsh,  cruel — you  and  he  may  say — it  is 
because  he  does  love  you,  because  you  have  enslaved 
him  for  your  own  selfish  purpose.  In  other  ways, 
where  you,  yourself,  have  been  a  victim,  I  shall  try 
to  remember  your  need  and  be  fair.  Will  you  please 
tell  us  your  story?" 

Gail  stared  at  him  with  glazed  eyes. 

He  broke  the  long  silence  that  followed  with  a 
short  laugh. 

"You  want  first  to  learn  how  much  I  know,  in 
truly  diplomatic  fashion.  Listen,  Mrs.  Orcutt: 
George  Orcutt  was  a  passenger  on  the  steamer 
San  Giorgio  to  Italy  on  the  seventh  of  last  April, 
the  day  after  he  killed  Lucas  Emmet.  He  sailed 
under  the  name  of  George  Ormond,  and  he  still 
goes  by  that  name.  He  is  now  in  Paris  on  the  Rue 
de  Rivoli,  with  a  valet  and  a  physician  as  compan- 
ions, acting  under  the  instruction  of  Doctor  Manton. 
Your  husband  has  incipient  paresis;  he  is  incurable, 
and  will  grow  steadily  worse,  but  may  live  for  years, 
a  burden  to  himself  and  to  every  one  connected  with 
him.  I  have  learned  about  him  as  a  'case,'  and 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  193 

your  secret  is  not  outside  this  room.  I  knew  from 
the  beginning  that  my  patient  was  not  George  Orcutt, 
and  I  have  worked  steadily  since  his  recovery  to 
learn  his  identity.  It  is  only  this  week  that  I  have 
all  the  facts  that  I  have  related  concerning  your 
husband.  If  you  will  glance  at  these  two  pictures, 
you  will  see  that  no  matter  what  else  is  in  doubt, 
there  is  no  question  that  two  separate  individuals 
sat  for  them.  Who  is  the  man  beside  you?  That 
is  what  I  want  to  learn  from  you,  Mrs.  Orcutt." 

As  the  narrative  proceeded,  a  faint  excitement 
trickled  through  Gail's  leaden  brain.  Mind  and 
body  and  soul  paralyzed  by  his  opening  fire,  she 
dully  awaited  his  sentence  on  herself.  Her  enemy 
could  tell  her  nothing  about  her  defeat  that  she 
had  not  anticipated — exposure,  the  arrest  of  her 
husband,  scandal,  a  blighting  heritage  of  duplicity 
and  demoralizing  shame  laid  on  her  baby — this  was 
to  be  the  end,  despite  her  wild  and  feverish  fencing 
with  fate.  She  was  a  specter,  apart,  distant,  sen- 
sible of  but  one  emotion — curiosity  to  learn  the  his- 
tory of  her  victim.  This  desire  had  always  been 
with  her,  haunting,  insistent,  at  times  overshadowing 
her  fears  of  discovery  and  consequent  penalty.  Her 
one  real  interest  now  was  the  unfolding  of  this  mys- 
tery, this  disturbing,  perplexing,  weirdly  fascinating 
mystery. 

At  the  doctor's  terse,  "Who  is  the  man  beside 
you?"  she  started  up  as  though  electrically  shocked. 
It  was  a  moment  before  she  comprehended  the  ques- 


i94  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

tion  in  its  full  significance.  Dazedly,  she  glanced 
up  at  the  face  of  the  man  who  loved  her.  He  was 
her  friend  because  he  was  still  in  ignorance.  She 
must  tell  them — tell  them 

Wildly,  like  a  creature  hunted  by  bloodhounds, 
she  fled  to  the  furthermost  corner  of  the  room. 

Puzzled  by  so  strange  a  move,  the  alienist  arose, 
his  eyes  and  brain  alert  to  learn  what  such  conduct 
meant. 

"My  God,  Underwood,  call  it  off !  I  don't  care 
a  rap  who  I  am,"  cried  Orcutt.  He  reached  out  his 
hands  to  her.  "Gail,  look  at  me.  I'm  not  going 
to  let  any  one  injure  you,  dear."  He  started,  fell 
back  a  step  before  her  shrinking  terror.  "You  are 
afraid  of  me — of  me!"  He  turned  in  bewilder- 
ment to  the  alienist.  "Underwood!" 

"You  are  the  one  she  has  injured.  She  holds  a 
vision  of  the  other  woman  waiting." 

Gail's  eyes,  ablaze  with  a  species  of  madness, 
sought  the  doctor's. 

"Tell  me,  in  pity!     Is  there — some  one?" 

Very  gently,  Underwood,  all  physician  now  that 
he  read  illness  in  her  fevered  eyes,  guided  her  to  a 
chair  and  bent  her  unresisting  body  to  its  depth. 

"Come,  now;  come,"  he  soothed.  "There  is  no 
one  going  to  injure  you ;  no  one.  Get  a  small  glass 
of  water,  Orcutt."  Smiling,  his  voice  running  on  in 
cheerful,  friendly  tone,  the  doctor  stirred  a  white 
powder  in  the  water.  "Drink  this.  Ah,  that's 
good.  Now,  rest  a  little." 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  195 

"Underwood,"  cried  the  younger  man.  "Isn't 
this  enough — for  to-day,  anyhow?  You're  driving 
her  mad — and  me.  You  hold  the  whip  hand — be 
merciful." 

"The  most  merciful  thing  to  her  just  now  is  to 
go  to  the  end  with  this.  Do  you  think  she  will  rest 
a  moment  till  she  has  cleared  her  mind  fully  and 
knows  exactly  where  she  stands?  Ah,  you  agree 
with  me,  Mrs.  Orcutt.  Come,  then,"  gently;  "speak 
out — the  whole  story  from  the  beginning.  You 
have  a  lenient  judge  in  him,  and  he,  not  I,  will  be 
your  judge  in  the  final  summing-up.  Mine  is  the 
whip  hand  only  till  the  evidence  is  in." 

Slowly  her  somber  eyes  raised  to  the  man's  she 
had  injured. 

"It's  acquittal,  dear,"  he  said  softly.  "Come, 
let's  clear  the  whole  matter  up.  Now  that  it  rests 
wholly  between  you  and  me  I  am  ready  to  hear 
anything." 

He  bent  over  her,  his  voice  troubled. 

"Keep  back  nothing.  I  am  not  sure  that  even  / 
should  judge  you  leniently  if  you  deceive  me.  Play 
fair,  play  fair,  Gail." 

It  was  the  inner  man  who  spoke,  the  man  deep 
imbedded  to  whom  truth,  Truth  Impersonal,  was- 
greater  than  Love.  Though  he  did  not  yet  know 
this.  She  sensed  it,  but  only  as  an  unseen  danger, 
dimly  felt  and  apprehended.  The  alienist  looked 
on  curiously.  He  wondered  if  she  had  discovered 
the  unbending  Puritanism  deeply  intrenched  beneath 


196  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

the  pseudo  Orcutt's  flow  of  worldly  toleration  and 
gay  fellowship.  He  could  conceive  of  counts  upon 
which  he,  her  open  enemy,  would  be  a  more  lenient 
judge  than  her  lover — and,  in  part,  because  he  was 
her  lover. 

Shivering  visibly  under  the  impelling  gaze,  she 
answered  humbly: 

"I  will." 

She  proceeded  to  her  story's  unfoldment,  the  sen- 
tences sometimes  fast  upon  one  another,  and  clearly 
enunciated,  again  haltingly,  the  tone  so  low  it  was 
a  strain  on  her  hearers  to  catch  all  the  words.  Her 
voice  was  colorless  and  flat,  possessed  of  a  dead 
quality  that  made  her  seem  not  a  pulsing  human 
being,  but  an  automatic  instrument.  Accompanying 
the  dulled  tones  was  a  monotonous  drop — drop — 
drop — of  a  steadily  falling  rain  on  the  window- 
sills,  and  a  low  buzzing  blowing  from  the  gas  logs. 
She  related  the  plain  facts  without  apology  or  exten- 
uation, argument  or  glossary.  It  was  primarily  a 
tale  of  what  happened,  not  of  the  why  and  the 
wherefore.  She  laid  bare  her  acts,  and  kept  herself 
veiled  and  shrouded  in  a  shadowed  background. 

Her  voice  ceased.  She  sat  very  still,  her  eyes 
bent  on  the  floor. 

A  sound  broke  upon  the  poignant  stillness,  an  ex- 
clamation of  resistless  humor  from  Orcutt.  The 
alienist  grinned  in  quick  response.  The  cupboard 
was  bare  and  lo !  the  poor  dog  had  none.  The  end 
of  her  tale  found  them  where  they  were  at  the  be- 


''  'You  do  not  forgive '  she  mumbled.  'I — I  did  not — expect — 

Only '  " — Page  197 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  197 

ginning — even  farther  away:  for  their  final  resort 
was  now  explored  and  found  vacant  of  the  expected 
treasure.  She  was  as  unpossessed  of  her  victim's 
identity  as  himself.  Its  ludicrous  element  struck 
the  waiting  men  first,  keyed  as  they  were  to  a  fever 
pitch  of  expectancy. 

He  was  laughing!  Gail's  blood  began  to  glow 
warm  with  the  hope  that  thrilled  it.  She  felt  the 
awful  pall  lifting  from  her,  almost  as  though  it 
were  a  visible  thing  removed.  Her  face  turned  to 
him  like-  a  happily  surprised  child's. 

"You  forgive  me?"  she  quavered. 

There  was  a  taut  silence.  The  alienist  held  his 
breath — and  the  questioner  felt  the  pall  drop  back 
upon  her. 

"You  do  not  forgive "  she  mumbled.  "I — I 

did  not — expect Only " 

"Forgive?  Forgive?"  The  lover's  eyes  swept 
the  pitifully  crouching  figure,  rested  on  the  pallid 
face,  surpassingly  lovely  even  in  its  veil  of  anguish. 
"I  do  not  know  yet  whether  there  is  anything  to 
forgive — or  whether  there  is  an  injury  so  deep  that 
it  passes  the  line  of  forgiveness  to  condonement, 
guilty  condonement,  because  I  love  you  so  irrevo- 
cably. You  say  my  pockets  were  empty;  that  there 
were  no  letters  or  papers  about  me;  none?" 

She  gave  answer  in  the  negative  by  a  slow  shake 
of  the  head. 

"But  the  label  of  my  tailor,  surely  that  told  you 
the  name  of  my  town?" 


198  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

"Label?  Yes,  there  would  be  a  tailor's  name  on 
the  coat.  I  didn't  think — of  that.  He  said  there 
was  nothing — not  the  slightest  clue  to  your  iden- 
tity." 

"He? — your  husband?  Do  you  mean  that  you, 
yourself,  did  not  search?" 

"You — were  a — strange  man — and And  he 

promised " 

"A  strange  man  that  was  to  bear  the  brand  of 
murderer  to  serve  you,  that  was  to  be  brought  into 
your  house,  pass  for  your  husband,  your  child's 

father And  you  did  not  trouble  to  save  a  clue 

that  might  lead  him  to  his  own  identification  when 
you  were  through  with  him!" 

"Don't!  Don't!"  she  cried  out  feebly  against 
his  stern  eyes.  "I  was — oh! " 

"You  were  in  great  need.  I  know.  But  that 
strange  man  was — helpless." 

Throughout  the  man  spoke  quietly,  an  even, 
deadly  quiet  that  congealed  Gail's  blood.  She  had 
felt  the  indomitability  of  his  will  when  he  demanded 
the  prerogatives  of  a  husband,  the  impelling  force 
that  lay  always  back  of  his  words.  She  had  been 
afraid  of  the  veiled  strength  that  could  be  seen  even 
through  his  lightest  and  most  boyish  moods.  She 
had  known  from  their  first  meeting  after  his  recov- 
ery that  he  would  be  a  dangerous  opponent — one 
that  no  wiles  could  swerve  from  the  end  his  con- 
victions demanded.  She  was  frightened  anew. 
"Helpless?"  Yes;  he  had  been  helpless.  She  was  a 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  199 

kidnapper.  Her  crime  was  as  great  as  would  be 
that  of  a  desperado  who  picked  Vance  up  from  the 
street  and  hid  him  securely  away.  And  perhaps  as 
heinous,  for  some  one  mayhap  was  suffering  even 
as  she  might  suffer  over  losing  her  baby. 

"You  must  have  realized  your  responsibility 
toward  him — and  his,"  he  continued. 

"No,"  she  protested.  Then:  "Yes — yes — I 
knew — I  always  knew,  only " 

"Only " 

"He. came  first — my  baby!     I  had  to  save  him." 

It  was  a  simple  statement.  The  physician  nodded 
his  head  in  understanding.  But  to  the  other,  man 
only,  her  passion  of  motherhood  carried  no  illu- 
minating message.  He  continued  to  look  at  her  in 
an  appalled  belief  that  he  could  not  understand. 

She  slid  to  her  knees,  caught  his  hands  and  laid 
them  to  her  burning  cheeks.  Her  eyes  held  his 
imploringly. 

"I  saved  your  things.  He — he  nailed  them  in  a 
box It's  in  the  attic " 

"In  the  attic,"  he  repeated,  struggling  with  the 
portent  of  her  words.  "You  could  have  perhaps 
learned  who  I  am  at  any  moment.  And  you  have 
allowed  me  to  love  you  not  knowing  what  other 
ties  I  might  have.  You — you,  my  Gail." 

"Please  don't  be  unfair,"  she  sobbed.  "My  cal- 
endar is  black  enough.  You  know  I  haven't  wanted 
you  to  love  me.  I  did  want  your  friendship,  but 
not  to  trade  on." 


200  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

They  gazed  at  each  other  steadily.  They  forgot 
they  were  not  alone.  She  was  on  her  knees  before 
him,  his  hands  still  held  against  her  cheeks. 

"I  can't  make  you  out,"  he  groaned.  "You  are  an 

enigma.  And  the  woman,  good  or  evil 

The  box  that  holds  my  belongings — just  where 
is  it?" 

She  staggered  to  her  feet. 

"I'll  have  Jackson  get  it,"  cried  she.  "He  put  it 
away  and  will  know  just  where  it  is." 

She  was  all  eagerness,  like  a  child  trying  to  make 
amends.  But  her  eyes  were  unchildishly  anguished, 
holding  the  sickness  of  death  in  them. 

Her  lover  watched  her  with  eyes  soft,  again 
bitter;  then  with  a  helpless  shake  of  the  head  he 
waited. 


XXVII 

JACKSON  set  the  box  on  the  floor  and  laid  the 
hammer  and  chisel  beside  it,  as  directed  by 
his  employer,  a  little  disturbed  that  he  had  not 
been  allowed  to  draw  the  nails  and  remove  the 
cover.  He  was  not  desirous  to  learn  what  the  box 
held,  it  having  no  particular  significance  to  him, 
but  only  to  perform  his  duty.  He  left  the  room  with 
the  uncomfortable  feeling  that  his  work  was  not 
completed. 

Nor  was  the  box  immediately  opened.  It  was 
as  though  a  receptacle  of  the  dead  had  been  dragged 
from  the  earth  and  stood  gruesomely  before  them. 
Actually,  it  was  a  common  soap-box  of  pine  and 
much  black  lettering;  but  not  one  of  them  saw  it 
in  its  actuality.  All  the  horror  and  desperation  of 
that  day  when  it  had  been  surreptitiously  brought 
into  use  rushed  over  Gail.  She  closed  her  eyes 
against  it,  shuddering.  Doctor  Underwood's  pulse 
quickened;  contained  therein  might  be  material  for 
the  necessary  shock  to  loosen  his  friend's  jammed 
stream  of  consciousness,  already  on  the  verge  of  dis- 
solution. The  man  whom  it  most  vitally  concerned 
trembled  before  its  possibilities  and  held  back. 

201 


202  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

At  the  long  stillness  Gail's  eyes  unclosed. 

''Open  it!"  she  screamed. 

"Yes;  let's  get  the  agony  over,"  said  the  alienist 
in  ragged  tones. 

Orcutt  knelt  and  picked  up  the  tools,  sweat  beads 
of  pure  nervousness  starting  from  his  forehead.  He 
removed  the  boards  deliberately,  loosening  each 
board  before  removing  any  portion  of  the  cover. 
When  open,  he  stared  for  a  few  moments  at  the 
uppermost  contents — a  coat  of  mixed  gray  and  black 
in  almost  invisible  stripes  and  a  self-colored  bro- 
cade navy  blue  necktie.  His  hands  stumbled  toward 
the  coat.  Then  suddenly  the  groping  stopped  and 
his  hands  leaped  forward  with  the  precision  of  an 
automaton.  Into  the  depths  of  the  right-hand 
pocket  his  fingers  went  unerringly.  It  was  a  crum- 
pled yellow  paper  they  drew  forth. 

To  the  dull  splash  of  the  rain  against  the  win- 
dows and  the  irksome  blowing  of  the  gas  logs  was 
added  Gail's  sharp  breathing.  She  leaned  forward, 
her  eyes  resting  in  fascinated  horror  upon  the  yellow 
paper  he  was  reading. 

"I  didn't  know,"  she  panted.     "I  didn't  know." 

No  one  heard  her.  The  other  onlooker,  now 
wholly  alienist,  sat  with  tense  nerves  and  muscles 
awaiting  the  outcome. 

The  yellow  paper  was  crushed  in  the  man's  con- 
vulsive hand.  His  body  swayed  as  though  to  fall, 
righted  itself,  and  he  continued  to  stare  ahead  in  a 
stupor  of  agony.  The  rain,  the  blowing  of  the  gas 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  203 

logs,  the  woman's  sharp  breathing,  all,  in  the  deathly 
atmosphere  of  suspense,  was  an  intrusion  that 
seemed  to  clang  and  bellow  and  blatantly  echo 
and  re-echo  through  the  room.  Both  watchers 
shivered  visibly.  It  was  like  watching  a  ghastly 
game  between  the  forces  of  life  and  death.  And 
neither  could  help  him  by  so  much  as  a  thought's 
weight.  He  had  found  his  past,  the  past  that  was 
his  before  they  knew  him.  He  was  now  agonizing 
over  the  tragedy  that  had  shocked  his  brain  into 
a  state  of  dissociation  a  year  before.  Would  the 
cut-off  sensations  of  a  year  ago  continue  now  on 
their  paths  as  though  no  time  had  elapsed  between 
then  and  now?  Or  would  he  have  the  memories 
of  both  past  and  present,  the  separate  streams  of 
consciousness  synthesized?  The  mystery  held  them 
taut.  Neither  the  friend  who  loved  him  nor  the 
woman  who  had  wronged  him  took  cognizance  of 
his  suffering. 

Would  he  know  them? 

Deaf  and  dumb  and  blind  to  everything  else,  they 
waited  the  answer  to  that  question:  Would  he 
know  them?  Awaited  it  hours  as  measured  by  their 
straining  nerves,  minutes  measured  by  the  clock. 

He  staggered  to  his  feet,  opened  his  hand,  and 
held  out  the  yellow  slip  to  the  doctor  in  silence; 
then  walked  to  the  window,  pressing  his  forehead 
against  the  cold  pane. 

The  telegram  read: 


204  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

"LOMNAY,  CALIFORNIA,  April  7,  1904. 
"MR.  KEITH  EDGERTON, 
Hotel  Imperial, 

New  York  City. 

"Your  father's  new  horse,  Gorilla,  backed  him 
and  Harold  over  San  Luis  Arroya  an  hour  ago. 
Your  father  killed  outright,  Harold  died  on  the 
way  home.  Victoria  prostrated.  Please  wire  full 
instructions  about  your  desires  as  to  funeral,  etc. 
Whole  town  ready  to  serve  in  any  way  and  over- 
come with  grief.  This  message  will  seem  heartless, 
but  I  have  no  other  recourse.  We  decided  after 
consultation  that  you  must  be  told  the  truth  at  once. 
May  God  help  you,  my  boy,  to  bear  this.  Some 
one  of  us  will  meet  you  with  automobile  at  any 
hour  you  may  arrive. 

"Your  friend, 

"DANIEL  MANNERS." 

The  doctor  read  the  message  carefully,  then 
placed  it  in  Gail's  outstretched  hands,  and  walked 
to  the  window.  He  put  an  arm  about  the  trembling 
shoulders. 

"Keith,"  said  he,  the  name  coming  naturally,  "I 
want  you  to  go  home  with  me  at  once,  dear  boy. 
This  is  a  crisis.  I  speak  plainly,  you  see.  I  want 
you  to  put  yourself  in  my  charge  absolutely  for  the 
next  twenty-four  hours." 

"Underwood,  she  has  waited  a  year.  I  must 
go  to  her  now.  God  in  Heaven — how  could  you ! 
Ah,  my  little  Victoria,  my  poor  darling! — and  I 
wasn't  there  to  comfort  you " 

Gail  had  crept  near.     She  stood  now  very  still,  a 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  205 

shaking  wraith  with  the  dumb  suffering  eyes  of  a 
doe  wounded  unto  death. 

"Who  is — Victoria?"  she  breathed. 

He  did  not  look  at  her. 

"My  sister,  a  delicate  girl  of  seventeen,"  he 
answered,  his  voice  ominously  quiet. 

"You  owe  it  to  her  to  put  yourself  in  my  care 
for  a  day,"  urged  the  physician.  "You  must  go  to 
her  as  a  protector,  not  a  possible  charge." 

"My  mind?  It's  all  right,  Underwood.  But  I'll 
give  you  the  day  you  want — I  owe  that  much  to  you, 
surely.  A' day  more  will  not  seem  long  to  Victoria 
after  waiting  a  year." 

Gail  reached  out  her  hands  in  pleading.  "I — 
I "  came  jerkily,  "would  die  to — undo " 

"The  moving  finger  writes — and  moves  on,"  was 
the  answer.  "No — please  don't  explain — I  can't 
bear  anything  more,  and  that — don't  you  see  how 
inadequate  anything  is  that  you  may  say!" 

"Yes — I  see "  she  quavered,  and  lay,  a  gold 

and  white  bundle  at  his  feet,  unconscious. 

"Unconsciousness  is  the  very  best  condition  for 
her  at  present,"  pronounced  the  physician.  "She's 
fit  subject  for  a  hospital.  I'll  carry  her  to  her  room." 

But  the  other  man  had  raised  her  in  his  arms 
and  was  gazing  at  her  death-like  face  with  eyes  not 
easy  to  fathom. 

"Look  at  her,  Underwood.  She's  like  a  flower, 
a  pure  white  lily.  Would  you  believe  she  could 
murder  a  young  girl — would  you?" 


2o6  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

The  alienist  glanced  at  him  sharply,  his  gaze  pro- 
fessional. 

"No;  I'm  not  delirious.  Victoria  hadn't  the 
strength  to  endure  the  corroding  suspense  of  my 
absence  on  top  of  the — rest.  She  is  dead — mur- 
dered by  this  woman.  Strange,  that  God  should 
make  a  creature  so  beautiful  and  not  give  her  a 
soul." 

He  carried  her  up  the  broad  stairs  and  into  her 
room.  As  he  laid  her  down  her  eyelids  fluttered 
open. 

The  physician  approached  with  a  hypodermic 
needle  and  a  glass  of  water.  Seating  himself  calmly, 
he  raised  the  short,  wide-cuffed  sleeve  above  her 
elbow  and  proceeded  to  inject  the  morphia. 

"There,  that  didn't  hurt  much,"  soothed  he,  smil- 
ing professionally.  "Your  maid  has  orders  to 
undress  you  and  get  you  into  bed.  I  will  send  a 
nurse,  and  you  must  do  just  as  she  says.  Rest  and 
rest  and  more  rest  is  what  you  need  now.  You've 
been  keyed  up  for  so  long  that  now  you  want  to 
cuddle  down  and  be  lazy  like  a  kitten  after  a  hard 
frolic  to  catch  a  shadow." 

Her  gaze,  pitiably  pleading,  sped  by  him  to  the 
other.  She  pushed  the  doctor's  detaining  hand 
away,  staggered  to  her  feet,  and  clutched  at  Keith 
Edgerton's  folded  arms. 

"Try  to  understand "  she  implored.    "To  try 

to  save  my  baby  from  shame — wasn't  cruel  when — I 
— didn't — know I  thought  you  were  friend- 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  207 

less,  truly  I  did.  I  don't  think  I  could  have  done  it 
— if — I  had — known." 

"You  don't  think !     Don't  you  know?" 

"Dear,  he's  my  baby.  I'd  go  to  hell  and  burn 
everlastingly  if  it  would  insure  his  happiness." 

The  little  caressing  word  had  power  to  thrill  him, 
even  through  his  grief  and  horror  and  bitterness. 
Hot  resentment  and  anger  swiftly  followed.  His 
eyes  blazed. 

"Don't — don't!"  she  moaned.  "I  can't  live  if 

you  despise  me You  know,  you  have  always 

known,  that  I  love  you Ah!  you  do  know  it 

— you — must ' ' 

Yes,  he  knew.  Underneath  all  his  doubts  and  tor- 
ments and  unbelief  he  had  yet  known  that  she  loved 
him  almost  from  the  first. 

"Knowing  makes  it  all  the  harder  to  understand," 
he  cried,  a  great  weariness  in  his  voice. 

"I  think  —  you  —  will — never — understand 

That  will  be — part — of  the — price  I  must — pay 
She  reeled  from  the  morphia's  influence. 
"Ah — lay  me — down " 

No  conversation  passed  between  the  two  friends 
on  their  way  to  the  sanatorium.  Edgerton  sat  with 
chin  dropped  to  his  breast,  a  hand  covering  his  eyes, 
emotion  surging  now  to  deep  groans,  again  to  poig- 
nant exclamations.  Morris  Underwood's  eyes  were 
blurred  with  sympathy,  his  thoughts  curiously  ques- 
tioning. The  end  of  it  all — what  was  that  to  be? 


XXVIII 

T^OCTOR  UNDERWOOD  turned  the  telegram 
^"^  over  and  over  in  his  hand  unconsciously.  He 
sat  in  glum  meditation,  critically  considering  its  con- 
tents. They  were  deeply  disturbing.  And  every- 
thing had  been  going  so  well  from  the  viewpoint 
of  the  physician.  The  lost  memory  had  been  fully 
recovered  and  completely  synthesized  with  later 
memories;  the  mind  of  his  friend  was  now  a  whole 
and  working  normally — the  one  truly  satisfactory 
condition  by  the  alienistic  standard.  Moreover,  he 
had  willingly  obeyed  the  physician's  instructions  and 
accepted  his  treatment  without  protest — precau- 
tionary treatment  rather  than  remedial;  for  Edger- 
ton's  reception  of  the  disastrous  revelations  of  the 
day  before  had  shown  him  to  be  now  possessed  of 
that  poise  and  strength  of  mind  that  should,  by  all 
alienistic  tests,  belong  to  him  naturally.  The  mental 
breakdown  that  occasioned  his  loss  of  memory  had 
always  been  a  mysterious  thing  to  the  alienist,  ac- 
countable only  on  the  hypothesis  of  an  unusual  com- 
bination of  havocing  causes,  a  large  factor  being 
prolonged  nervous  strain  simultaneous  with  strong 
emotional  excitement  and  continuous  worry. 

208 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  209 

He  was  now  in  normal  physical  and  mental  con- 
dition, and  should  be  able  to  endure  the  forthcoming 
shock  with  only  the  normal  results.  Should.  But 
things  did  not  always  work  out  as  they  should,  and 
the  dread  fact  contained  in  the  telegraphic  message 
— how  would  Keith  bear  this  on  top  of  his  recent 
sorrow? — and  how  best  to  impart  it?  A  simulta- 
neous succession  of  harmless  eruptions  could  be  so 
easily  affected  in  the  earth  instead  of  one  terrific 
and  devastating  explosion.  He  had  seen  a  ditch 
beautifully  made  in  this  way.  But  the  brain  was 
not  a  clod  in  which  a  specific  amount  of  explosive 
could  be  carefully  placed  just  so  far  apart  and  go 
off  per  arrangement  at  the  igniting  of  the  fuse.  No 
matter  how  gently  flaming  news  was  dropped  on  a 
sensitive  mind,  the  effect  was  as  instantaneous  as 
that  of  a  lighted  match  to  nitro-glycerin — that  the 
resultant  shock  might  or  might  not  prove  injurious 
was  purely  accidental. 

His  head  shot  forward  in  listening  attitude.  Yes; 
it  was  Edgerton's  step  at  the  door.  He  thrust  the 
telegram  in  his  pocket  and  rose  with  smiling  non- 
chalance. 

"You  sent  the  message  we  agreed  on?"  was  Keith 
Edgerton's  greeting. 

"Yes;  at  four  yesterday  afternoon." 

"The  answer  1  You  have  it I  saw  the  boy 

bring  it  as  I  was  dressing." 

"Keith " 


210  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

"It  is  true,  then.  She  is — dead!  Little  Victoria 
— murdered." 

He  sat  down  in  the  chair  he  usually  chose,  a  deep 
leather  chair,  grown  slouchy  and  comfortable  with 
many  years'  service. 

"When  did  she  die?" 

The  alienist  hesitated. 

"When  did  she  die?" 

"Does  it  make  any  difference  when,  Keith?" 
asked  the  doctor  softly. 

"No;  it  makes  no  difference.  She  was  murdered, 
whether  she  died  a  month  or  eight  months  ago. 
Had  I  been  taken  in  charge  by  an  officer,  as  I  should 
have  been  had  I  not  been  ruthlessly  carried  off,  the 
telegram  telling  of  father's  and  Harold's  deaths 
would  have  been  found  and  answered.  I  should 
have  been  free  to  go  home  to  comfort  her  or  to 
be  tended  by  her — either  way  she  would  have  lived." 

His  friend's  little  eyes  blinked  at  him  inquiringly 
behind  the  disguising  glasses;  his  first  impression 
being  that  the  lover  was  trying  to  steel  his  heart 
against  a  dreaded  weakness  by  convincing  himself 
of  his  beloved's  unpardonable  guilt.  But  no;  he 
saw  that  he  was  simply  stating  the  case  as  it  ap- 
peared to  him,  summing  up  the  evidence  as  might 
a  judge. 

"The  message,  please,"  came  incisively. 

The  doctor  handed  it  over,  his  apprehensions 
fully  allayed  by  the  stern  quality  of  Edgerton's 
grief.  It  was  worded: 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  211 

"LOMNAY,  CALIFORNIA,  Feb.  18. 
"MORRIS  UNDERWOOD,  M.  D., 
"Underwood  Sanatorium, 

"Valhalla,  New  York. 

"Keith  Edgerton  left  home  for  New  York  City 
April  2,  1904,  registered  at  Hotel  Imperial  April 
8.  Disappeared  same  day  after  receiving  telegram 
telling  of  death  of  father  and  brother.  His  bag- 
gage left  at  hotel.  Man  of  his  description  sailed 
on  Str.  St.  Paul  bound  for  Liverpool,  same  after- 
noon, jumped  overboard  next  morning.  No  bag- 
gage, and  no  one  aboard  knew  this  man  and  no 
claims  made  later.  Name  on  ship's  sailing  list — 
Ralph  Stone.  Believe  foul  play,  as  Keith  was  very 
high-principled  and  considerate.  Victoria,  his  sis- 
ter, died  October  20  of  heart  complications.  Last 
of  Edgerton  family  here.  All  communications 
gladly  answered  that  may  lead  to  clearing  mystery. 
Large  estate  in  waiting. 

"JOHN  L.  MANNERS,  M.  D." 

"Foul  play!  About  as  foul  as  has  ever  been  done, 
Underwood,"  said  Edgerton  grimly. 

The  alienist  said  nothing.  He  had  not  hesitated 
to  speak  plainly,  even  brutally,  against  Mrs.  Orcutt 
to  accomplish  his  purpose — to  make  whole  his  pa- 
tient, to  give  his  friend  the  name  that  was  his  birth- 
right. This  done,  he  was  personally  satisfied.  And 
wisdom,  the  wisdom  that  is  greater  than  knowledge, 
bade  him  now  hold  his  peace.  His  friend  loved 
her,  and  the  end  was  not  reached.  It  would  be 
easier  for  Keith  Edgerton  to  forget  what  he  him- 


212  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

self  had  said  against  the  woman  he  loved  than  to 
forgive  the  arraignment  of  another. 

Too,  the  doctor  had  reverted  to  the  revelation 
of  the  telegram;  another  phase  than  the  death  of 
Victoria — the  Ralph  Stone  incident.  He  had  run 
upon  an  account  of  the  St.  Paul  suicide  while  inves- 
tigating the  George  Orcutt  affair.  He  had  thought 
for  a  short  while  that  this  man  might  have  been 
Orcutt,  as  he  had  sailed  on  the  same  day  of  the 
murder,  without  baggage,  and  no  one  save  the 
authorities  had  then  made  inquiries  into  Stone's 
death.  This  was  ten  days  after  Emmet  was  killed 
and  evidently  before  Keith's  friends  began  their 
inquiries.  Stone  was  said  to  have  been  clean  shaven, 
a  state  that  Orcutt  would  naturally  resort  to  as  a 
disguise,  had  been  the  doctor's  inference,  and  con- 
sidered by  him  as  evidence  till  fuller  description  of 
features  convinced  him  that  he  must  search  further 
to  find  Orcutt. 

"Had  you  worn  a  Vandyke  beard  previous  to 
your  leaving  home — long  enough  for  there  to  have 
been  a  photograph  or  kodak  taken  that  way?"  ques- 
tioned Underwood  abruptly. 

Edgerton  awoke  from  his  absorbed  thoughts. 

"No;  I  didn't  take  time  to  shave  while There 

had  been  illness I  came  away  without  much 

preparation The  porter  on  the  Pullman  took 

my  shagginess  in  hand  with  evident  delight,  and 
seemed  so  proud  of  his  work  that  I  hadn't  the  heart 
to  have  a  shave  till  out  of  his  presence,  nor  did  I 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  213 

care If  I  had  been  shaved If  I  had  only 

been  shaved!" 

"Humph!"  grunted  the  doctor.  "You  were 
searched  for  then,  but  without  the  identifying  Van- 
dyke beard  that  figured  so  prominently  in  the  news- 
paper accounts  of  Orcutt.  Naturally,  you  were  con- 
flicted with  the  suicide,  Stone.  And  even  if  your 
picture  appeared  in  the  papers,  they  would  repre- 
sent you  as  clean  shaven,  telling  nothing  to  me — nor 
even  to  Mrs.  Orcutt,"  he  admitted.  "To  your 
friends  it  was  as  though  the  earth  had  opened  and 
swallowed  you  up — to  us  you  appeared  as  though 
dropped  from  a  clear  sky; — I  see  more  clearly  than 
I  have  before  how  men  are  lost  and  never  accounted 
for — descriptions  are  perilous  things  to  go  by — 
and  with  so  many  scents,  it  is  wonderfully  easy  to 
follow  away  from  instead  of  to  the  quarry.  Yet, 
if  it  had  been  one  of  your  own  blood  hunting  for 
you  I  am  inclined  to  think  the  search  would  not 
have  stopped  with  the  Stone  explanation." 

"Last  of  Edgerton  family  here,"  Edgerton  re- 
peated, in  low,  awed  tones,  his  mind  on  the  tele- 
graphic communication  from  his  home,  not  heeding 
the  doctor's  musings.  "Underwood,  two  years  ago 
there  were  six  of  us.  Mother's  death,  that  came 
first,  was  unbelievable.  That  one  of  us  should  ever 
be  separated  from  the  others  was  a  thing  none  of 
us  could  grasp.  And  she  had  always  been  so  well; 
the  very  day  before  her  death  she  was  glorious  with 
health  and  joy.  She  had  been  bothered  a  little  at 


2i4  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

times  with  a  curious  pain  in  her  right  side  that  she 
always  laughed  over  and  diagnosed  as  ice  cream  or 
too  much  fresh  fruit  or  any  other  conceivably  dis- 
turbing food.  Then " 

"Appendicitis." 

"Appendicitis,"  he  echoed,  shuddering.  "And 
we  could  not  believe  it  even  when  we  saw  her  put 
in  her  grave.  We  were  like  lost  spirits  for  weeks 
after — the  home  was  not  our  home  without  her. 
Agnes  gathered  up  the  reins  of  the  household  the 
best  she  could,  and  somehow  we  went  on.  We  found 
we  could  live  and  even  smile  and  laugh.  But  the 
scar  was  there;  she  had  rooted  so  deep  in  us  all 
that  a  vital  part  of  ourselves  had  been  torn  away 
with  her  going Then — Agnes  ! — typhoid " 

He  rose  and  paced  the  floor,  his  hands  clenched. 

"Agnes! — part  of  myself  in  more  than  just  flesh 
and  blood.  Twins,  we  had  played  and  dreamt  and 
thought  together  from  babyhood.  There  was  a 
bond  between  us  more  than  that  of  mere  brother 
and  sister.  We  more  than  sympathized  with  each 
other's  joys  and  pains ;  we  felt  them,  literally.  For 
six  weeks  I  didn't  leave  her  for  an  hour — perhaps 

I  slept  some  sitting — I  don't  know She  died 

with  her  head  on  my  shoulder." 


XXIX 

'  I  VHE  physician  sat  in  silence  and  waited  patiently 
•*•  for  Keith  to  continue  his  story.  It  was 
something  he  had  felt  he  could  not  ask  for.  Any 
confidence,  of  a  personal  matter  must  be  given  vol- 
untarily or  be  forever  withheld,  had  been  his  de- 
cision. Only,  he  was  immeasurably  glad  that  he 
had  told  him,  glad  in  a  fond,  fatherly  way  that  had 
nothing  to  do  with  his  professional  interest,  albeit 
he  was  possessed  of  a  certain  satisfaction  in  that 
he  had  so  correctly  diagnosed  the  experiences  that 
led  up  to  Keith's  breakdown.  It  was  upward  of  a 
half-hour  before  the  narrative  continued,  then  Ed- 
gerton  resumed  his  story,  speaking  as  quietly  as 
before. 

"It  was  like  a  dream  then,  and  now.  The  world 
was  a  strange  spectral  thing  without  Agnes.  The 
doctor  ordered  a  change  for  me,  and  Father,  grand, 
unselfish,  old  Dad,  arranged  for  me  to  go  East. 
There  was  some  talk  of  Harold's  coming  with  me 
— but  there  was  Victoria  to  think  of,  our  baby  Vic- 
toria, delicate  from  birth.  Harold  was  very  com- 
panionable to  her,  and  it  was  decided  that  he  must 

215 


216  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

stay  to  keep  her  company.  The  nurse  remained  to 
look  after  her  health,  and  a  housekeeper  came  from 
somewhere  to  run  the  house.  The  irony  of  it! 

Harold  stayed  to  comfort  Victoria If  he  had 

come " 

"Stop!  There  is  never  any  'if,'  Keith.  Because 
many  roads  open  to  one  view  doesn't  mean  that 
we  have  any  choice  in  the  one  we  must  tread.  We 
take  the  road  which  we,  by  reason  of  our  being 
and  training  and  circumstances,  must  take.  The 
others  are  only  what  might  have  been  chosen  if 
our  antecedents  had  been  other  than  they  are.  Half 
the  misery  in  the  world  comes  from  not  seeing  this. 
'If  she  had  only  not  taken  her  child  to  the  party 
he  would  not  have  contracted  diphtheria  and  died' — 
'If  he  had  only  not  sent  his  boy  to  college  he 
wouldn't  have  been  on  the  rowing  team  and  been 

drowned' — // — */ — if And  all  the  while  the 

step  we  take  is  inevitable,  not  ordained  as  an  en- 
tity from  the  beginning  of  time,  but  led  up  to  as 
inexorably  as  though  it  had  been  bodily  conceived 
in  the  foundations  of  the  universe.  Curse  and  groan 
all  you  will  over  the  things  that  are,  but  do  not,  in 
the  name  of  science  and  logic,  bemoan  the  non-exis- 
tence of  conditions  that  in  the  very  nature  of  things 
could  never  have  existed  at  all." 

It  was  a  sore  point  with  Morris  Underwood — 
the  futile  repinings  of  a  world  of  people.  And 
doubly  exasperating  coming  from  a  man  of  Keith 
Edgerton's  intelligence  and  trained  mind.  Yet  his 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  217 

subject  had  carried  him  farther  than  he  realized 
till  he  had  finished. 

"The  old  sorehead  got  going  and  couldn't  stop," 
he  apologized  quickly. 

"Father  and  brother  and  sister  buried,  and  I  not 
there,"  groaned  the  other,  his  mind  wholly  barren 
of  the  doctor's  words.  "Victoria  lived  six  months 
after  the  horror  and  shock  of  Father's  and  Har- 
old's deaths,  and  all  the  grief  that  had  gone  before ! 
It  was  waiting  that  killed  her — corroding  suspense 
over  me." 

"Come,  Keith,"  said  the  physician  gently,  "no 
more  of  that.  The  past  is  the  past.  To  accept  it 
is  all  you  can  do.  You  are  blameless  of  it  all." 

"I  ? — yes."  Edgerton's  eyes,  transfixed  with  dull 
agony,  raised  to  the  solicitous  face.  "She  mur- 
dered Victoria  as  truly  as  we  both  sit  here." 

"And  that  is  what  you  can't  be  resigned  to?" 
The  words  were  more  a  statement  than  a  question. 

The  dull  voice  went  on,  unheeding. 

"That  she  could  do  it! — the  whole  miserable 
affair.  If  it  had  been  one  impulsive  act  quickly 
repented  of  and  righted  as  far  as  lay  in  her  power — 
But  this  long  lie,  this  carefully  conceived  fraud,  this 
damnable  treachery!  I  can't  understand  her.  She's 
so  considerate  of  others,  so  fair  in  her  judgments, 
so  adorably  tender  and  wise  with  Vance." 

"That's  the  solution  of  it  all.  She's  a  mother — 
and  one  of  the  mysteries  of  the  world,"  answered 
the  physician.  "She  will  not  only  endure  hell  for 


2i 8  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

the  child  she  has  borne,  but  will  ruthlessly  drag  any 
one  else  with  her  to  serve  him.  You,  any  one,  is 
but  a  pawn  to  be  sacrificed.  Civilization  has  given 
a  mother  nothing:  she  still  tears  and  rends  for  the 
child  of  her  womb  and  doesn't  know  that  the  whole 
world  of  humanity  is  her  Babe,  waiting  in  swad- 
dling clothes  for  Her  to  save  it.  But — what  will 
you!  She's  a  woman.  Treachery,  lying,  deceit! 
to  slay  a  man's  faith ! — to  deaden  his  soul ! — this  is 
nothing  if  a  woman  has  a  point  to  gain." 

Keith  Edgerton's  face  twisted  to  a  shadowy 
smile.  "A  woman  has  struck  you  and  your  eyes 
are  still  out  of  focus.  My  mother  and  Agnes  and 
little  Victoria — there  was  nothing  but  goodness  in 
them.  They  wouldn't  have  known  how  to  play  a 
part.  We  all  lived  in  the  open — body,  mind,  and 
soul." 

He  clenched  his  hands  again,  and  looked  past 
his  friend  in  dumb  inquiry.  It  hung  over  him — 
a  blank  amazement.  He  had  said  truly  that  he 
could  not  understand.  Candor,  frankness,  an  al- 
most naked  baring  of  their  mental  life  had  char- 
acterized the  Edgertons  from  whom  he  sprang. 
No  meant  "no"  without  qualification;  "yes"  held  no 
equivocations.  "To  thine  own  self  be  true,"  was  a 
fundamental  maxim.  There  must  be  integrity  of 
soul,  whatever  else  there  was  not.  The  unforgiv- 
able sin  was  falsehood — falsehood  by  word  or  act 
or  manner.  To  learn  at  first  hand  of  the  deception 
of  friend,  neighbor,  tradesman,  any  one  whosoever, 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  219 

always  brought  from  Samuel  Edgerton,  Keith's 
father,  the  terse  verdict,  "rotten  at  the  core." 

It  may  have  been  an  exemplification  of  the  theory 
that  folk  will  generally  do  as  done  by  that  caused 
the  Edgertons  to  be  more  honestly  dealt  with  than 
the  mankind  about  them.  But  more  likely  it  was 
fear  of  the  scorn  that  shone  from  Edgerton's  eyes 
— a  righteous  scorn  that  caused  the  one  on  whom 
it  fell  to  writhe  in  unfamiliar  shame.  The  culprit 
always  knew  it  was  not  a  case  of  the  pot  and  the 
kettle ;  his  own  murky  color,  ordinarily  unnoticed  by 
himself,  became  infamously  black  under  the  white 
light  of  truth  beating  unpretentiously  upon  it. 

Both  the  Edgertons  and  the  Kings,  Keith's 
mother's  family,  had  descended  from  the  Quakers. 
The  gentle  austerity,  the  simple  mode  of  living,  the 
unpretending  virtues  of  the  Quakers,  were  theirs. 
Samuel  Edgerton  and  Rowena  King  had  graduated 
from  the  University  of  Pennsylvania  the  same  year; 
the  man  had  taken  history  and  philosophy  for  his 
major  subjects;  the  woman,  a  classical  course.  Then 
they  had  married  and  gone  to  California,  the  one 
to  fruit  farming,  the  other  to  the  duties  of  house- 
keeping and  motherhood.  When  asked  by  a  prac- 
tical friend  why  they  had  not  specialized  in  horti- 
culture and  domestic  science,  they  had  only  smiled 
at  each  other  and  evaded  the  question.  Their  ob- 
ject had  not  primarily  been  to  prepare  themselves 
to  make  a  living,  but  to  make  living  worth  while 
to  themselves. 


220  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

And  because  of  virgin  soil  and  the  sun  that  al- 
ways shone  and  irrigation  that  never  failed  and 
good  brain-stuff,  they  made  a  living  and  more.  It 
was  not  a  lonely  land  to  them,  this  ranch  ten  miles 
from  their  nearest  neighbor.  When  their  work  was 
over  they  had  their  books  and  the  intellectual  en- 
joyment of  each  other  and  the  rare  ability  to  think. 
Then,  dearest  of  all  joys,  the  chance  to  impart 
knowledge  to  their  children,  those  beings  that  had 
sprung  from  out  their  own  loins,  and,  in  that  miracu- 
lous fact,  different  from  all  other  beings  that  the 
universe  had  ever  known  or  could  know. 

The  teachers  had  not  been  the  less  exacting  and 
thorough  because  they  were  parents,  nor  the  par- 
ents less  loving  and  playfully  companionable  because 
they  superadded  the  necessary  discipline  and  rigor 
that  the  teaching  of  lessons  somehow  requires.  It 
had  been  a  wonderful  home  life,  more  wonderful 
than  parents  or  children  knew.  It  bore  in  upon 
Keith  Edgerton  in  a  flood  what  an  elysium  his  home 
had  been.  A  vision  of  the  material  house  and  set- 
ting rose  before  him.  He  saw  the  big  plaster  house 
with  its  red  tile  roof  built  in  picturesque  Spanish 
style,  the  climbing  roses  that  reached  to  roof  and 
chimney,  the  palms,  the  heliotrope  bushes  big  as 
trees,  the  flaming  poinsettias,  the  riotous  geraniums. 
He  felt  himself  again  amidst  orange  groves  and 
orchards  of  plum  and  apricot  and  peach  and  lus- 
cious figs.  No  wonder  he  had  longed  for  the  open 
and  for  work  that  would  tire  his  muscles;  for  such 


221 

had  been  his  life.  Indoors  and  idleness  were  alien 
to  him;  as  were  deceit  and  lying  and  chicanery. 

"I  can't  understand!"  he  cried  again,  his  voice 
hoarse  and  thick. 

"No;  for  woman  is  woman  and  man  is  man," 
said  Morris  Underwood  acridly.  He  was  fond  of 
paraphrasing  and  almost  always  apt  and  bitter. 
"Give  up  the  riddle.  Go  to  your  home  and  forget 
her — or  hold  her  memory  as  an  antidote  against 
her  breed.  I  should  like  a  trip  to  California.  Doc- 
tor Unwin  can  take  care  of  things  here  for  a  few 
months.  I'll  go  West  with  you." 

Just  then  the  telephone  rang. 

"You,"  said  the  doctor,  handing  over  the  receiver. 

"Papa,"  came  the  child's  voice,  high-pitched  and 
tearful,  and  sounding  throughout  the  room  as  clearly 
as  at  the  receiver,  "I  want  you.  Mama's  sick  and 
I — Oh,  Papa,  you  are  coming  home — Mama  says 
you  won't,  ever.  She's  de-lir-us,  isn't  she?  You 
are  coming  home  and  you  are  going  South  with 
Mama  and  me — you  are,  aren't  you? — aren't  you, 
Papa?" 

Keith  Edgerton's  answering  voice  was  deliberate. 

"Sure,  partner,  I'm  going  South  with  you  and 
Mama.  I  promised  you,  remember.  I'll  go  home 
as  soon  as  you  and  Bryan  can  come  for  me.  Tell 
Bryan  the  open  car.  Be  sure  that  he  wraps  you  up 
well." 

"Oh!  oh!    And  may  I  tell  Mama?" 

"Yes— tell  Mama." 


XXX 

'T^HE  doctor  looked  at  Edgerton  in  the  grieved, 
•*•     helpless  way  a  father  might  look  on  a  way- 
ward son  bent  on  destruction. 

"A  fool  there  is,"  said  he  bitterly.  "You're  not 
a  dupe  now,  but  a  blind,  passion  befogged  idiot. 
Knowingly  you  elect  to  be  a  pawn.  You,  a  man 
of — How  old  are  you?" 

"Thirty-two  last  month." 

"Thirty-two !— a  boy!" 

Edgerton's  shadowy  smile  reappeared. 

"I  was  a  man  by  Father's  reckoning  at  eighteen. 
Both  his  boys  and.  girls  were  considered  mature 
enough  at  that  age  to  govern  their  own  actions  and 
the  actions  of  others;  I  was  given  a  hundred  and 
fifty  acres  of  fruit  land  and  put  in  charge  of  forty 
men  the  day  I  was  eighteen,  and  the  responsibility 
of  success  or  failure  was  left  wholly  to  me — a  re- 
sponsibility that  I  had  been  carefully  prepared  for 
by  long  training.  No,  I'm  not  a  boy,  if  a  man  of 
thirty-two  ever  is.  Will  you  tell  me  what  else  I 
could  do?  Dr.  Beatson  says  and  you  corroborate 
him,  that  Vance  should  be  operated  on  this  week 

222 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  223 

and  have  rest  and  quiet  and  happy  surroundings  for 
a  month  at  least  after.  Should  you,  the  physician, 
advise  me  to  go  now  and  leave  Vance? — let  him 
now  know  that  I  am  not  his  father?" 

"No;  not  the  physician." 

"Nor  the  man." 

"But " 

"Underwood,  I  love  the  boy.  He's  mine  in  a 
sense  you  can't  realize." 

"I  think  I  can."  The  doctor's  tone  was  heavy 

with  significance.  "I — you "  He  stopped. 

Sentiment  was  not  easy  for  the  caustic,  jeering  scien- 
tist to  express. 

The  tender  lighting  of  the  younger  man's  eyes 
bespoke  understanding  of  the  big  heart  mourning 
parentally  over  him. 

"I'm  the  last  of  the  Edgertons,  but  even  so,  not 
without  some  one  of  my  own,"  said  he  in  low  voice. 
"No;  I  have  you  and  the  boy." 

"Forgive  me,  Keith,  but  we  count  not  a  jot  be- 
side the  woman." 

Edgerton  gazed  into  the  flickering  fire. 

"Underwood,  five  of  my  own  flesh  and  blood,  that 
I  loved  in  truth  better  than  myself — I  would  have 
willingly  died  for  any  one  of  them — are  gone,  deso- 
lation upon  desolation!  Yet — the  hurt  that  she  has 

given ! Death !  We  are  somehow  made  to 

bear  honorable  death.  If  I  had  ever  thought  about 
it  I  should  have  said  I  could  not  live  without  Agnes 
And  to  lose  father  and  mother — such  a 


224  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

father! — such  a  mother,  Underwood!  And  Har- 
old, you  would  have  loved  him  at  the  first  sight  of 
his  happy  face.  And  little  gentle  Victoria !  Oh, 
God! — they're  not  all  gone — they  can't  be!" 

He  flung  his  arms  across  the  table  and  bowed 
his  head  to  its  hard  surface;  the  sobs  came  then, 
hoarse,  unrestricted,  racking  his  body  with  their  out- 
pouring vehemence.  The  physician  looked  on  with 
eyes  very  moist  and  very  wondering.  The  boy  loved 
them  passionately — his  dead;  for  here  was  a  heart 
stricken  sore  with  grief,  a  heart  that  would  never 
wholly  heal  even  though  the  mind  learned  to  ac- 
cept his  loss  with  philosophical  fortitude.  Yet — a 
woman,  a  being  that  the  lover  himself  called  soul- 
less, could  bring  him  a  grief  deeper,  more  unbear- 
able— and  more  destructive!  The  mystery,  the 
everlasting  mystery  of  sex! 

The  sobs  ceased  abruptly,  the  bloodshot  eyes  fo- 
cused upon  him. 

"Why  should  I  blubber  like  this?  God  gave  life 
and  has  taken  it  again  in  His  inscrutable  way.  I 
must  bear  it — somehow — as  man  has  from  the  be- 
ginning." 

"Yes,"  said  his  friend,  "and  alone!  I  might  be 
willing  to  lay  down  my  life  to  save  you  pain;  but 
what  of  it?  I  can't  overstep  the  thing  I  call  Myself 
and  penetrate  the  forever  to  be  unknown  You. 
Alone!  The  soul  is  always  alone.  Emerson,  if  I 
remember  rightly,  wrote  that  the  only  thing  grief 
taught  him  was  to  know  how  shallow  it  is.  You 


THE    WOMAN'S    LAW  225 

would  find  that  even  if  the  woman  died,  you  could 
somehow  live  on  very  much  as  you  are  now." 

Edgerton  shot  upright  to  his  feet  and  wheeled 
upon  him. 

"Yes;  if  she  had  died!  Underwood,  don't  you 
know  it  is  easier  to  lose  the  beloved  woman  herself 
than  to  lose  faith  in  her?  Would  the  death  of  your 
beloved  have  made  you  a  cynic?  Death  is  the  kind- 
est thing  that  comes — sometimes.  But  to  lose  faith ! 
To  lose  faith!" 

Morris  Underwood  looked  curiously  upon  the 
grief-sodden  boyish  face,  appraising  him  anew. 

"Ah !"  The  tone  proclaimed  that  he  had  pounced 
upon  a  satisfying  answer.  "You  were  brought  up 
to  believe  that  truth  and  honesty  and  unselfishness 
are  the  natural  attributes  of  humanity.  Not  to  pos- 
sess these  cardinal  virtues  damns  even  your  Gail  for 
you."  He  laughed  shortly.  "I  never  had  faith  to 
lose.  I  only  asked  that  the  woman  love  me.  She 
could  have  had  a  soul  as  lurid  as  hell  if  she  had 
given  me  her  heart  aflame.  Your  divinity  loves  you 
and  you  stop  aghast  before  a  lie.  Oh,  yes;  you 
yet  want  her.  I'm  not  questioning  your  emotions. 
But  to  reason !  To  stipulate  for  the  virtues !" 

Something  of  his  unfailing  humor  lighted  Edger- 
ton's  face. 

"Reason  can't  be  said  to  be  in  evidence  when 
you  discuss  woman.  In  the  same  breath  you  tell 
me  both  to  flee  temptation  and  to  embrace  it.  Oh, 
I  know  the  latter  is  merely  talk;  you've  got  the 


226  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

habit  of  scoffing  at  virtue  and  you  spout  against  it 
like  a  park  agitator  against  the  Government." 

The  doctor's  face  reddened  from  hanging  jowls 
to  the  hair  line  of  his  projecting  forehead.  Could 
he  tell  the  boy  that  he,  Morris  Underwood,  would 
embrace  temptation — loving  and  being  loved  as 
Keith  Edgerton  was — but  that,  parent  fashion,  he 
wished  the  child  of  his  heart  to  flee  from  it  for  the 
sake  of  his  untarnished  soul? 

"No  matter,"  said  Keith,  interpreting  in  part  his 
confusion.  "I  shall  follow  my  own  path  anyhow, 
so  don't  worry  over  what  you  have  said  or  left 
unsaid." 

The  massive  head  nodded  slowly  in  acquiescence. 
Yes;  the  boy  would  go  his  own  way.  He  could 
sputter  and  growl  and  look  on — and  that  was  all. 

"Ah,"  said  Edgerton,  his  eyes  gazing  out  the 
window,  "I  think  I  see  Bryan  and  Vance.  Under- 
wood, I  want  you  to  write  Dr.  Manners  and  tell 
him  that  Keith  Edgerton  is  alive,  and  explain  about 
my  loss  of  memory.  Say  you  have  treated  him  pro- 
fessionally and  that  you  will  disclose  his  where- 
abouts when  it  is  safe  for  Keith's  future  health  and 
happiness  to  do  so.  Say  that  he  is  no  longer  with 
you  but  that  you  are  in  touch  with  him,  and  that 
you  have  just  now  learned  the  identity  of  your  ex- 
patient  by  chance.  Impress  it  upon  Dr.  Manners 
that  the  case  must  be  left  in  your  hands  entirely,  that 
you  will  communicate  with  them  as  necessity  occa- 
sions. Your  reputation  will  sufficiently  awe  him  into 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  227 

acquiescence  and  make  him  feel  that  he  can  trust 
me  to  you  unhampered.  Ask  him  to  arrange  in 
some  way  that  the  estate  is  not  left  in  disuse.  If  the 
ranch  is  not  already  let  and  my  affairs  looked  after, 
Judge  Landlow  will  give  him  the  authority  to  act 
for  me — and  to  keep  you  informed  as  to  anything 
that  might  react  to  Keith's  benefit." 

The  doctor  shook  himself  joyously  as  a  dog  might. 

"Good!  And  when  do  you  expect  to  start  West? 
I'll  arrange  for  my  absence  while  you're  in  Florida. 
I  should  rather  leave  Doctor  Hall  in  charge — Un- 
win  is  something  of  a  fool  occasionally." 

"I  didn't  say  I  was  going  West,"  said  Edgerton 
tersely. 

They  stared  at  each  other — glared,  more  prop- 
erly speaking. 

"You  mean " 

"Perhaps  I  don't  know  just  what  I  do  mean," 
Edgerton  smiled  faintly. 

"You  have  a  vision.    What  is  it?" 

"You  would  sneer  at  it.  To  have  visions  one 
needs  faith  in  humanity." 

"Humph!"  grunted  the  doctor.  "You're  going 
to  try  to  give  a  woman  a  soul.  Don't.  This  soul 
business  is  bad.  Love  her  if  you  must,  for  the  pagan 
she  is,  and  let  it  go  at  that." 

A  knock  sounded  at  the  door.  Vance,  enveloped 
in  furs,  entered. 

"We've  come  for  you.  Why — why — you've  been 
— crying,  too !  Mama's  in  bed,  de-lir-us." 


228  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

"You  talk  to  Doctor  Underwood  while  I  get  my 
cap  and  coat  on." 

The  child  stood  in  silence  after  the  man  left  the 
room. 

"It's  a  strange  world,  eh?"  queried  the  doctor  in 
friendly  banter. 

"Yes,"  returned  the  boy.  "It  is  now,  but  when 
I'm  grown  it'll  be " 

"Not  a  bit  different  from  now,  Vance." 

"But  men  know,  don't  they?" 

"Not  enough  to  brag  about.  You  see,  we  have 
our  mysteries,  horrid,  troublesome  things,  that  baffle 
us  the  same  as  you." 

"Was  Papa  crying  over  a  mystery?" 

"Not  a  mystery,  Vance;  the  mystery,  the  world- 
old  mystery,  that  men  try  to  fathom  and  never, 
never  do.  Male  and  female  created  He  them ! — 
and  laughed^  It  doesn't  say  He  laughed,  but  He 
did,  Vance,  for  it  is  the  supreme  joke  of  the  uni- 
verse. To  make  two  creatures  who  by  no  possibility 
could  ever  understand  each  other,  and  then  pair 
them  off  through  eternity." 

"I  don't — understand." 

"Nor  do  we — not  a  beggarly  one  of  us.  Keith," 
turning  to  the  furry  object  that  entered  the  room, 
"this  young  man  wants  to  grow  up  so  that  he  will 
understand  the  simple  rule  of  two — man  and 


woman." 


"You  called  Papa  'Keith,'  "  giggled  the  child. 
The  men's  eyes  met  blankly. 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  229 

"That's  a  new  name  I  have  for  him.  It  means 
idiot  and  visionary  and  hero  and  well-beloved.  I 
shall  call  him  Keith  all  the  while  hereafter." 

"But  he's  not  an  idiot,"  the  boy  protested  hotly. 
"And  what  does  that  other  thing  mean? — a — a — 
visiary?" 

"An  idiot  plus,"  guffawed  the  doctor. 

"Doctor  Beatson  operates  Thursday  at  eleven — 
you'll  be  there?"  said  Edgerton,  moving  towards 
the  doqr. 

"There's  not  the  slightest  need  of  my  being 
there." 

"But  you  will?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  physician.  It  was  a  growl.  But 
his  eyes  were  whimsically  tender.  He  had  joined 
the  great  army  of  worshippers  and  nothing  was  so 
heart  satisfying  as  service  for  his  idol. 


XXXI 

A  S  Edgerton  passed  Gail's  room  the  door  opened. 
•*^  "Mrs.  Orcutt  wishes  to  see  you,"  announced 
the  nurse  briefly,  retiring  as  he  entered. 

Gail  was  standing,  her  hands  pressed  against  the 
back  of  an  upholstered  chair.  Her  eyes  searched 
his  face  with  frantic  eagerness.  She  waited  for 
him  to  speak.  Her  own  lips  moved  futilely  several 
times  before  they  broke  the  constrained  silence. 

"Vance  says  that  you  are  going  South  with  him 
and — me." 

"Yes." 

"Why?"  she  whispered. 

"I — promised  him  before  I  knew.  And,  any- 
how, I  couldn't  leave  Vance  till  he's  better." 

"Then?" 

"Then  what?" 

"Tell  me  what — you — will — do  after  he  is 
better." 

He  smiled,  a  smile  that  held  no  friendliness  or 
mirth. 

"Isn't  there  a  biblical  phrase  about  not  knowing 
what  an  hour  or  a  day  may  bring  forth?" 

She  twisted  her  hands  together  feverishly. 
230 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  231 

"You  must  tell  me.  I  can't  stand  the  suspense. 
Don't  you  see  I  can't." 

"Just  what  is  it  you  want  me  to  do,  or  not  to  do?" 

"I  want  you  to  be  kind,  not  cruel,"  she  breathed. 

"Ah! — to  turn  the  other  cheek!  Gail,  my  sister 
is  dead.  She  waited  eight  months,  every  day  watch- 
ing for  me,  expecting  me,  crying  and  moaning  be- 
cause I  did  not  come.  She  was  all  I  had  left  of  my 
own You  killed  her." 

"No— no— no !" 

"Gail,  I  don't  feel  chivalrous.  Do  you  feel 
equal  to  having  Vance's  operation  on  Thursday  as 
planned?" 

"Yes,  I  want  it  over.  I  must  have  peace  of  mind 

soon  or  go  mad Tell  me  what  you  intend  to 

do Tell  me  now,  now!  I  can't  wait.  I 

can't!" 

"Victoria  waited." 

"And  died,"  she  cried  in  tense  voice.  She  clasped 
his  arms,  her  white  face  upraised.  "Will  it  help  her 
to  hurt  me?  You  can't  undo  what  is  done!  You 
can  torture  me,  but — will  it  help?" 

"It  may,"  he  returned,  with  grim  significance. 

"Dear " 

"Stop!"  he  commanded.  "Endearments  do  not 
belong  between  you  and  me.  Because  I  love  Vance, 
I  shall  see  him  safely  through  his  illness.  Little 
partner !  he's  square  and  honest  and  true." 

He  smiled  in  bitter  humor  as  he  saw  her  face 
lighten. 


23 2  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

"Don't  count  on  my  love  for  the  boy,  Gail,  to 
help  you.  I  may  not  agree  with  you  as  to  what  is 
best  for  him." 

"Kill  me  outright,"  she  pleaded.  "I  can't  endure 
your  scorn  and  the  awful  waiting." 

"It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  kill  you  to  end  my 
scorn  and  your  suspense." 

"You— mean " 

"That  you  can  tell  the  truth  to-day  that  should 
have  been  told  the  8th  of  last  April.  George  Orcutt 
is  a  murderer  and  should  be  given  into  the  hands  of 
the  law.  Your  course  is  clear." 

"No,"  she  pronounced  deliberately.  "I  shall 
never  do  it.  I  could  not  invite  the  shame  for  my 
baby." 

"Gail,  the  shame  is  the  same.  He  is  the  father  of 
Vance,  free  or  in  prison.  And  it  would  be  better 
for  Vance  to  know  about  his  father's  guilty  life  than 
that  you,  his  mother,  should  live  a  lie.  That  lie  has 
already  led  you  to  indirect  murder." 

"No!  No!  You  must  not  say  I  murdered  your 
sister.  Murder  means  the  premeditated  taking  of 
a  life,  wilful  killing.  I  believed  that  you  were  with- 
out relatives  or  friends.  I  did  not  dream  that  there 
was  any  one  hurt  by  your  absence.  If  I  had 
known " 

"You  took  the  line  of  least  resistance.  That  line 
another  time  may  lead  you  into — heaven  knows 
what.  Gail,  for  the  boy's  sake." 

"I  can't.    I  can't!    Ever." 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  233 

"You  leave  it  to  me  to  betray  you  or  to  share  in 
your  lie!" 

Her  hands  fell  from  his  arm  under  the  shrivelling 
scorn  of  his  gaze. 

"On  with  the  play!"  said  he  grimly.  "All  right! 
My  hands  are  tied.  Put  on  your  mask  and  ring  up 
the  curtain  on  another  act." 

"You — you — will— not " 

He  stopped,  swung  on  his  heel. 

"You  know  I  will  not.  You  have  known  it  from 
the  beginning.  A  man  can't  tell  on  a  woman !" 

She  swayed  to  and  fro,  laughing  hysterically. 
Darkness  had  lifted  from  the  face  of  her  earth.  Her 
son  was  not  to  bear  the  devastating  disgrace  of  his 
father's  crime!  She  could  only  laugh  ancj  sob  in  a 
hysteria  of  joyful  relief. 

He  continued  looking  at  her  in  puzzled  inquiry. 
He  could  not  believe  that  she  had  anticipated  be- 
trayal through  him. 

"Did  you  think  I  should  denounce  you,  give  up 
your  secret  to  the  law?"  he  interrogated. 

She  stumbled  to  his  side,  and  laid  a  timid  hand 
on  his  arm. 

"I  don't  know  what  I  believed,"  she  cried  bro- 
kenly. "I  have  been  stark  mad  with  fear.  . .  .  Do 
you  hate  me?" 

She  was  so  wan  and  trembling  that  his  harshness 
left  him. 

"It  makes  no  difference  what  I  think." 

"You  know  how  I  love  you,"  returned  she,  with 


234  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

a  sort  of  childish  defiance.  "I  love  you!  I  love 
you!" 

"And  because  you  love  me  you  are  going  to  drag 
me  at  the  wheels  of  your  chariot." 

"My  chariot?  Do  you  think  I  am  asking  this 
for  myself?  I  gave  Vance  one  father,  and  now, 
now,  if  it  is  at  the  price  of  my  soul,  I  shall  give  him 
another.  I  have  no  pride  where  he  is  concerned. 
He  shall  know  you  for  his  father  forever  if  I  can 
encompass  it.  Yes!  He  shall  have  your  example 
and  your  presence  and  clean  life  before  him !  He 
shall!  He  shall!" 

Her  eyes  blazed  defiance.  She  stood  there,  a 
quivering  bundle  of  maternal  fibers.  The  man  did 
not  comprehend  the  furious  instinct  that  drove  her. 
He  tried  to  reason. 

"Gail,  the  open  course  now  will  be  the  best  in 
the  end  for  the  boy.  This  lie  can't  go  on  forever. 
It  will  only  mean  more  for  you  to  explain  to  Vance 
finally.  Your  child  isn't  a  weakling.  He  can  bear 
this.  Doctor  Underwood  says  he  is  wholly  free 
from  physical  or  mental  disability  through  his 
father.  Your  husband's  breakdown  came  since  the 
child  was  born,  too  late  for  Vance  to  suffer  it 
through  inheritance.  And  there  is  a  long  line  of 
sound  ancestors  back  of  him,  sound  physically  and 
morally.  And  there  would  be  no  murder  trial  now 
of  George  Orcutt.  He  would  simply  be  transferred 
to  an  alienist  appointed  by  the  State."  His  hand 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  235 

closed  over  hers,  resting  on  his  arm.  "Gail,  free 
me  from  this  position !  Let  me  go  now  before " 

"What?" 

"Before  we  have  anything  more  to  regret,"  he 
said  gravely.  "Send  for  the  district  attorney 
to-day." 

"I  can't  ever!"  It  was  almost  a  scream.  "I 
can't!'' 

He  gazed  into  her  sick  eyes.  There  was  purpose 
there,  a  fanatical  persistence. 

"Be  calm,"  he  soothed.  "You  have  what  you 
desire — my  silence.  I  promise  not  to  betray  you. 
But  I  merely  submit.  I  am  not  in  any  agreement.  I 
shall  wait  till  you  release  me  voluntarily." 

"But  I  never  shall!" 

"You  do  not  know  what  you  will  do.  Now  is  not 
a  year  from  now.  We  will  drop  this  matter  here 
to-day.  Vance  is  disturbed  over  our  gloom  and 
tears;  be  at  dinner,  if  possible." 

"Do — do — you — hate  me?" 

Her  face  was  childishly  upheld.  His, eyes  dwelt 
upon  it. 

"It  might  be  better  if  I  did,"  he  answered,  and 
left  the  room. 


XXXII 

TN  one  of  Jackson's   absences   from   the   dining- 
room  Vance  turned  his  eyes  full  on  his  mother 
in  close  scrutiny  and  asked  anxiously: 

"Are  you  well  now,  Mama;  really,  truly,  surely 
well?" 

"Don't  I  seem  well?"  she  asked,  laughing. 

"Yes;   but  you've   been   acting   so   funny  lately. 

You  were  crying  this  morning  and  were  de-lir-us 

Now  you're  laughing  and  laughing  and  laughing. 
You — you  aren't  de-lir-us  now,  are  you?  The  nurse 
says  delirus  people  cry  and  laugh  over  just  nothing." 

"I  was  crying  this  morning  because  I  thought 
Papa  was  cross  with  me;  and  I'm  laughing  because 
he's  been  kind.  I'm  very  happy;  really,  truly,  surely 
happy." 

"Because  we're  going  South  together,  you  and 
Papa  and  me?" 

"Partly;  but  for  other  reasons,  too." 

"And  you'll  stay  happy?" 

"As  long  as  Papa  is  kind." 

The  child  turned  to  the  man,  his  little  face  beset 
with  gravity. 

236 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  237 

Edgerton  smiled. 

"Now,  partner,  never  ask  a  man  a  leading  ques- 
tion while  he's  eating  duck.  There's  something 
about  game  that  makes  a  man  resent  even  such  an 
innocent  little  question  as  to  whether  or  not  he's 
going  to  beat  his  wife.  Ordinarily  he  takes  such  a 
question  as  a  matter  of  course,  but  when  he's  eating 
duck " 

The  child  giggled  softly.  There  was  nothing  that 
he  enjoyed  so  much  as  his  papa's  gay  banter.  It 
was  a  sort  of  barometer  that  indicated  serene  skies 
over  the  household.  Himself  a  barometer  of  the 
joys  and  woes  about  him,  he  was  soon  excitedly 
happy,  he  and  his  mama  outdoing  each  other  in 
gaiety,  his  childish  squeals  of  mirth  mingling  with 
the  woman's  clear  bubbling  laughter,  honest  laugh- 
ter that  sprang  from  a  spirit  riotously  exuberant. 
Her  child  was  safe !  She  was  so  filled  with  nervous 
happiness  that  she  had  to  give  vent  to  it  as  does  a 
lark. 

Keith  Edgerton  looked  on  stupidly,  unable  to  un- 
derstand. 

In  the  drawing-room  she  clapped  her  hands  and 
cried  eagerly: 

"The  theater !  Let  us  all  go  and  see  Peter  Pan ! 
Yes,  we  shall  go !" 

And  they  went,  Edgerton  protesting  that  Vance 
should  be  in  bed,  Vance's  eyes  dancing  like  stars, 
Gail  laughing  and  chattering  as  though  unhappiness 
had  never  been  hers  nor  could  ever  be.  She  sat  in 


238  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

the  box  so  that  her  face  came  naturally  on  a  line 
with  the  man's  eyes.  He  could  only  gaze  at  it  in 
wonder.  The  wanness,  the  hollows,  the  straining 
muscles,  the  hunted  look,  were  gone.  Only  the 
haunting  wistfulness  that  was  always  there  hung 
over  it,  baffling  him  as  to  its  meaning,  as  it  always 
did.  It  was  like  the  shadow  of  an  oversoul — a  veil 
always  seemingly  ready  to  be  lifted,  yet  always  mys- 
teriously drawn.  It  was  as  though  another  being, 
richer,  rarer,  penetrated  dimly  through  the  Gail 
that  the  world  knew,  and  herself  knew. 

She  smiled  softly  in  sympathy  with  the  dainty 
humor  of  the  play.  Her  eyes  glistening  with  tears, 
she  turned  to  him  and  whispered: 

"Vance  would  think  me  'delirus'  indeed  if  I  should 
cry  now.  But  I  want  to — from  sheer  happiness.  I 
surely  shall  if  I  stay  through  the  play — there  are 
tears  in  its  laughter  for  me  to-night.  Let  us  go 
after  this  act;  Vance  won't  know  but  that  it  is 


over." 


Vance,  sitting  between  them  on  the  wide  seat  of 
the  limousine,  did  the  talking  on  the  way  home.  It 
was  his  first  play  in  the  evening,  and  of  magnified 
importance  thereby.  Suddenly  he  snuggled  against 
the  soft  cushioned  back  and  sighed  happily.  But 
when  he  spoke,  it  was  not  of  the  play. 

"You  love  Papa  now,  don't  you,  Mama?" 

The  man  and  the  woman  started. 

"Yes,"  came  quickly.     "I  love  Papa  now — only  I 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  239 

have  always  loved  Kim,  dear,  ever  since  he  came 
back  home  after  his  illness." 

The  child  uttered  a  surprised  "Oh!"  Then: 
"Did  you  know  it,  Papa?" 

"Partner,  did  you  know  that  the  Peter  Pan  you 
saw  on  the  stage  to-night  was  a  girl?" 

Vance  did  not  know,  and  the  play  again  became 
the  immediate  topic  of  interest.  But  the  child's 
prattle  fell  on  unheeding  ears.  The  love  note  had 
been  sounded  and  did  not  still.  That  they  heard 
clear  and  loud  and  sweet.  They  loved  each  other — 
they  loved  each  other!  It  persisted  in  their  ears 
like  a  lilting  melody  that  sings  itself. 

Vance  was  operated  on  the  second  day  following, 
a  simple  throat  operation  that  would  have  caused 
no  uneasiness  nor  occasioned  any  previous  prepara- 
tion but  for  the  fact  that  the  child's  heart  was  weak. 
Without  being  at  all  sickly,  the  little  fellow  was  deli- 
cately organized,  his  freedom  from  sickness  the  nat- 
ural result  of  care  and  right  environment.  He  re- 
covered surprisingly,  both  from  the  anesthesia  and 
the  wound.  Nor  did  he  have  the  usual  invalidic 
irritability  of  convalescents.  He  made  no  demands 
other  than  that  his  papa  and  mama  should  be  within 
reach  of  his  languidly  eager  eyes.  He  could  not 
have  enough  of  them.  But  as  he  grew  stronger  he 
began  to  sense  that  something  was  still  wrong  some- 
where. He  did  not  voice  his  trouble;  only  gazed  at 
them  in  wistful  questioning,  searching  vainly  for  the 
truth. 


240  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

The  mother,  her  heart  contracted  with  maternal 
fears,  sought  Edgerton  in  the  library  one  morning 
while  the  child  was  asleep.  This  was  about  a  week 
after  his  operation. 

"Have  you  noticed  that  Vance  has  not  been  so 
well  for  the  past  two  days?"  she  asked. 

"Yes." 

"And  do  you  know  why?" 

"Yes." 

"Then ?" 

"What?"  he  returned. 

"Must  I — tell  you?"  she  faltered. 

His  eyes  crinkled  with  tender  humor. 

"I  sometimes  think  I've  fallen  heir  to  two  children 
— a  little  boy  and  a  very  little  girl." 

"The  little  girl  is  a  very  anxious  mother  just 
now,"  said  she,  with  a  break  in  her  voice. 

"And  a  woman  that  I'm  mad  with  love  for — 
don't  forget  that!" 

"I'm  asking — it — for  Vance." 

"I  know.  Vance  will  grow  used  to  the  situation. 
It  will  make  it  easier  for  him  when  we  part." 

"Part?    Part?    No— no!" 

He  folded  his  arms  and  leaned  against  a  book- 
case. 

"The  very  little  girl  is  speaking  now.  The  grown- 
up woman  would  know  that  we  must  part.  These 
months  that  I  thought  you  my  wife  let  down  the 
barriers  between  us  till "  He  stopped. 

"They'll  not  go  up  again? — is  that  it?"    Her  eyes 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  241 

were  partly  closed  as  she  questioned,  a  grave  con- 
templation in  them.  Suddenly  they  were  swimming 
with  tears.  She  held  out  her  hands,  beseechingly. 

"No  matter  what  we  are  to  each  other,  to  Vance 
we're  his  father  and  mother.  Our  coldness  is  break- 
ing his  heart And  I  can't  bear  it  for  him  to 

be  unhappy  now I  don't  care  about  anything 

else I  just  want  him  to  get  well  and  strong 

Oh,  you  don't  know !" 

"I  know  that  for  us  to  caress  each  other  daily 
is  to  play  with  edged  tools,  my — wife  that  can't  be," 
said  he  gently. 

A  knock  sounded  at  the  door,  the  discreet  rap  of 
a  servant. 

"Vance  wants  us,"  cried  she.  With  swift  motion 
she  drew  his  face  to  hers.  Then  she  kissed  him  on 
the  lips,  speeding  from  the  room  to  Vance's  bedside. 

The  invalid  was  propped  against  the  pillows,  a 
faint  color  beginning  to  show  in  his  pale  cheeks.  The 
long  lashes  lifted  and  the  eyes  opened  wide  and 
gleaming  as  they  fell  on  the  radiantly  girlish  face 
that  bent  over  him. 

"Something's  happened;  something  good,"  he 
piped  joyously.  "Tell  me,  Mama,  tell  me." 

"Greedy!"  she  answered  gayly.  "Can't  Mama 
and  Papa  have  any  secrets  at  all!" 

"Secrets?"  His  voice  fell  wearily.  "I  wish  there 
weren't  any  secrets  ever.  I  hate  secrets;  I  hate  'em 
— hate — 'em — hate  'em !"  He  addressed  Edgerton 
as  he  crossed  the  threshold.  "Please  tell  me  what 


242  THE    WOMAN'S    LAW 

beautiful  thing's  happened.  Tell  me,  please,  dear 
Papa." 

The  mother  answered: 

"Insatiable  boy!  Must  Mama  and  Papa  tell  you 
every  time  they  kiss  each  other?" 

"Oh!"  The  child  sat  upright,  his  eyes  like  dia- 
monds in  brightness.  "You  and  Papa  kissed  each 
other!  Sure?  Sure?" 

The  mother's  laugh  rang  out  blithely,  a  gladsome 
lilt  that  told  nothing  of  restrained  tears. 

"Listen  to  that!  Our  son  thinks  he  is  the  only 
one  that  is  ever  kissed.  What  a  state  of  affairs !" 

The  child's  gaze  traveled  to  and  fro  from  the 
woman's  face  to  the  man's. 

"Partner,"  came  quietly;  "what  you  really  want 
to  know  is  whether  or  not  your  father  and  mother 
love  each  other,  isn't  it?  Listen,  little  mate,  and 
don't  ever  forget:  I  love  your  mother  better  than 
all  the  world,  even  my  boy;  and  your  mother  loves 
me — next  best  to  you,  I  think." 

"But,"  protested  the  boy  excitedly;  "she  must  love 
you  best.  Wives  do,  you  know." 

"You  see  what  it  means  to  him,"  said  Gail. 

"All  right,  partner,"  said  Edgerton,  seating  him- 
self on  the  bed  and  taking  the  boy's  hand  in  his. 
"We'll  put  you  down  a  close  second.  But  you  must 
let  Mama  and  me  love  each  other  in  our  own  way. 
You  mustn't  worry  because  we  don't  act  just  as  you 
think  husbands  and  wives  should."  There  was 
gentle  raillery  in  the  voice,  whimsicality  in  the  eyes. 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  243 

The  child  flushed  a  little  in  embarrassment  over 
his  ignorance  of  adult  ways,  then  giggled  softly  his 
excuses : 

"But  you  do  act  funny,  don't  you?" 

"Not  for  us,  partner.  I  don't  believe  there  were 
ever  another  papa  and  mama  just  like  us.  So  you 
see,  you  mustn't  measure  us  by  ordinary  standards." 

"I  won't  again,"  avowed  the  child,  delighted  over 
this  confidence  between  man  and  man. 


XXXIII 

T"\OCTOR  UNDERWOOD  stood  unobserved  in 
**~^  the  doorway  of  the  Orcutt  sun-parlor,  a  large, 
almost  circular  room  with  a  view  of  the  Hudson  and 
the  Palisades.  It  was  the  one  room  Edgerton  had 
always  liked,  its  wealth  of  sunshine  and  compara- 
tively simple  furnishings  giving  the  nearest  approach 
to  the  "home"  feeling  he  had  so  ardently  desired. 
He  sat  now,  his  gaze  bent  on  the  panorama  of  the 
river;  the  always  busy,  boat-laden  river,  with  its  in- 
cessantly changing  scenes  had  a  curious  fascination 
for  this  man  of  the  inland.  Vance,  dressed  fully 
to-day  for  the  first  time  since  his  illness,  sat  on  his 
knees,  watching  the  shifting  boats  in  dreamy  silence. 
Beside  them,  in  a  low  rocker,  was  Gail,  engaged  in 
embroidery  work. 

The  doctor's  eyes  narrowed  with  displeasure  at 
this  domestic  scene,  and  a  grunt  of  disapproval  an- 
nounced his  presence. 

"Sit  still,  sit  still,"  said  he,  advancing  and  seating 
himself.  "I  don't  want  to  break  up  such  a  pretty 
family  picture." 

Exactly  like  a  frightened  child  Gail  turned  her 
244 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  245, 

face  to  Edgerton's  and  shrank  nearer  to  him. 
Smiling,  he  reached  for  the  embroidery  hoops  in  her 
hand,  his  own  hand,  warm  and  protecting,  closing 
over  the  shaking  fingers. 

"Look  at  that  for  an  orchid,  will  you?"  said 
he,  and  tossed  the  hoops  to  his  friend.  "The  whole 
orchid  family  should  bring  action  for  slander  against 
the  designer  of  that  atrocity." 

Morris  Underwood  let  the  hoops  bound  from  his 
knee  to  the  floor. 

"Not  being  a  family  man,  I  don't  presume  to  pass 
judgment  on  tatting  and  the  like,"  he  retorted  testily. 

"I  knitted  an  Irish  lace  collar  once,"  was  Edger- 
ton's rejoinder.  "Pretty  good  work,  too,  so  my  fam- 
ily all  assured  me.  I  was  twelve  years  old  and  re- 
covering from  the  measles." 

"Who  did  you  make  it  for,  Papa?"  was  Vance's 
eager  inquiry. 

Gail  rose,  and  picked  up  the  embroidery  that  had 
fallen  at  her  feet. 

"Come,  dear." 

"I  want  to  stay  and  visit  with  the  Doctor,"  the 
boy  answered,  not  moving. 

Edgerton  lifted  him  to  the  floor,  where  the  child 
stood  very  erectly  and  proudly  in  his  blue  velvet 
suit.  He  smiled  up  at  the  man  he  believed  to  be 
his  father. 

"  'Nuff  said,  I  guess." 

Edgerton  pinched  his  cheek  softly. 

"It  looks  that  way,  partner,"  returned  he,  his 


246  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

eyes  following  child  and  mother  till  the  door  closed 
after  them. 

"So  I'm  to  look  on  helpless  and  see  another  good 
birthright  sold  for  a  mess  of  pottage!"  growled  the 
alienist,  after  a  constrained  silence.  u  'The  woman 
tempted  me  and  I  did  eat.'  How  many  more  men 
will  cry  that  before  man  learns  sense?" 

"So  you  have  become  a  convert  to  circumstantial 
evidence." 

"I  believe  what  I  see  with  my  own  eyes.  She's 
got  you  body  and  soul.  Confound  her  beauty  and 
feline  attractions.  Yes,  feline;  a  woman  has  no 
more  soul  than  that  Angora  cat  there  on  the  window- 
sill.  What  a  woman  wants  she  takes,  and  the  robbed 
can  starve — or  die,  for  all  of  her.  But  Mrs.  Orcutt 
shan't  sacrifice  you,  I  warn  you  now." 

Keith  Edgerton  shifted  uneasily. 

"What  do  you  intend  to  do?" 

"That  depends  on  you,"  returned  the  alienist 
acridly.  "How  much  longer  shall  you  masquerade 
as  a  blackguard  and  murderer?" 

Edgerton  leaned  forward  and  looked  the  other 
squarely  in  the  eye,  his  attitude  wholly  belligerent. 

"This  is  my  business,  and  I  won't  stand  any  inter- 
ference in  it." 

"So  Delilah  wins!" 

"Call  it  that  if  you  prefer.  I  have  put  my  faith 
in  the  woman  I  love — the  outcome  is  between  her 
and  me." 

Slowly  the  bitterness  faded  from  the  alienist's 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  247 

face,  and  pity  filled  it — the  pity  of  one  who  sees 
for  one  who  is  wholly  and  incurably  blind. 

"Boy!  Boy!"  he  groaned.  "So  that  is  it.  You 
believe  that  she  will  grow  a  soul  and  a  conscience. 
The  woman  who  kidnapped  you  with  ruthless  dis- 
regard of  all  consequences  to  you  and  yours  is  now 
voluntarily  to  sacrifice  herself  for  your  welfare? 
Why?  Woman's  inconsistency  always  rests  on  a 
very  tangible  reason  that  brings  benefit  to  herself. 
And  confession  would  give  Mrs.  Orcutt  nothing. 
She  might  do  it  to  gain  you  for  her  husband  legally 
and  openly;  you,  the  man;  not  your  gratitude  and 

reverence.  But Do  you  know  what  would 

happen  if  she  gave  George  Orcutt  up  to  the  law?" 

Edgerton  answered  deliberately,  the  ready  answer 
of  one  who  has  turned  the  subject  many  times  in  his 
mind. 

"He  would  be  declared  insane,  an  insanity  that 
antedated  the  murder,  and  would  be  committed  to 
an  insane  hospital  for  the  balance  of  his  life." 

"A  matter  of  thirty  or  forty  years,"  completed 
the  alienist  triumphantly.  "And  by  the  law  of  the 
land  Mrs.  Orcutt  must  remain  tied  to  her  imbecile 
husband  till  death  releases  her.  Nor  could  she  keep 
you  at  her  heels  without  losing  her  reputation.  No; 
she  will  never  bare  her  secret  till  she  is  forced  to  it. 
On  one  plea  or  another  she  will  compel  your  silence 

and  keep  you  beside  her  till But  there  is  no 

use  going  into  detail.  You  and  I  both  know  the 


248  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

inevitable  outcome  of  this  affair  if  left  to  you  and 
her." 

"Have  you  decided  where  you  are  going  on  your 
hunting  trip?"  asked  Edgerton  evenly,  but  the  angry 
cords  whipped  out  on  his  forehead. 

"Paris,"  was  the  laconic  and  startling  reply. 

The  two  measured  glances,  as  they  had  so  many 
times  recently.  Edgerton  had  no  need  to  ask  what 
was  the  physician's  errand  in  Paris. 

"You  mean  to  bring  George  Orcutt  here,"  he 
cried  hoarsely. 

"I  do,"  was  the  calm  answer. 

"Our  ways  part  here,  Underwood,"  came  in  tone 
deadly  quiet. 

The  alienist  partly  rose. 

"I  expected  as  much.    A  friend " 

"A  friend "  interrupted  Edgerton  in  scathing 

voice,  "would  have  left  me  to  deal  with  my  own 
affair  in  my  own  way  and  my  own  good  time.  A 
friend  doesn't  interfere  with  a  man  and  his  woman. 
He  is  left  to  condone  or  scourge,  pity  or  kill." 

The  elder  man  dropped  to  his  chair  again.  A 

man  and  his  woman.  The  old  eternal  twain 

"Male  and  female  created  He  them."  For  count- 
less eons  man  and  his  woman  had  stood  shoulder  to 
shoulder  against  the  world  or  with  the  world,  but 
together,  always  together.  Even  in  the  brute  state 
the  male  was  left  to  deal  with  his  mate — whether 
weakly  or  strongly  was  never  the  question  to  his 
fellows.  The  two  were  indivisibly  together  and 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  249 

apart  from  all  others — not  because  of  rites  and 
ceremonies  or  written  laws,  but  by  their  own  free 
choosing,  the  primeval  law  of  the  wild.  Nature 
was  no  less  nature  when  clothes  replaced  fur  and 
houses  superseded  tree-tops  and  caves.  Eye  still 
spoke  to  eye,  and  heart  to  heart,  and  the  world- 
old  call  of  sex  was  still  the  clarion  note.  A  man 
and  his  woman! 

And,  strangely,  the  pretty  domestic  scene  that 
had  so  stirred  his  resentment  a  few  minutes  before 
now  caused  Morris  Underwood's  heart  to  soften 
as  he  reviewed  it  in  his  mind.  The  trustful  gaze 
of  the  child  as  he  nestled  in  the  arms  of  the  man  he 
believed  to  be  his  father,  the  woman's  dependent 
attitude  and  love-laden  eyes,  the  man's  protective 
air.  It  mattered  not  that  they  were  not  his  by  the 
stern  code  of  a  brick  and  mortar  world,  for  the 
horizon  and  circumference  of  Keith  Edgerton's 
world  was  now  a  woman's  eyes  and  his  law  was 
love.  The  casuists  might  wrangle  over  their  ethics, 
and  the  moralist  denounce,  and  Fate  eventually 
break  them  on  her  wheel — it  mattered  not  to  these 
two  bare  souls,  blind  and  deaf  and  dumb  to  all  save 
the  magic  splendor  of  each  other.  A  man  and  his 
woman ! 

He  reached  out  his  hand  and  laid  it  gently  on  the 
other's  knee. 

"Boy." 

The  eyes  that  rose  to  his  were  bitterly  accusative. 

"A  man   and  his   woman,"   uttered  the   doctor 


250  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

softly.  "You  are  right,  boy;  it  is  not  for  me  to 
interfere.  Go  your  own  way.  If  you  drag  each 
other  into  hell  you  may  neither  ever  know  it.  Any- 
how, it  is  too  big  for  me." 

Hand  closed  over  hand,  and  the  friends'  eyes  met, 
at  first  grave,  freighted  with  the  magnitude  of  the 
moment.  Then  both  smiled — the  rare  smile  of  mu- 
tual understanding,  like  no  other  smile  of  human 
lips. 

"Thank  you,  Underwood,"  came  unevenly.  "And 
thank  you  doubly  because  you  are  trusting  me,  not 
understanding." 

"Oh,  yes;  I  understand,"  said  the  physician,  the 
sardonic  note  sounding  again.  "You  believe  that 
love  will  re-create  her.  Madness,  pure  madness! 
But  no  matter.  She  is  your  problem,  your  destiny, 
your  woman.  I  leave  you  to  each  other.  It  is  all  I 
can  do.  Only — the  end  will  be  the  inevitable  end — 
you  are  doomed  for  the  sacrifice."  He  smiled,  half- 
bitterly.  "You'll  stop  with  me  if  you  return 

alone You  may  have  to  come  on  an  errand," 

he  added  hastily.  Then  he  chuckled.  "Boy,  I'm 
going  to  let  you  go  your  own  way;  but  it's  blamed 
hard,  you  see.  Even  as  I  let  go  the  line  with  one 
hand  I  want  to  pull  it  back  with  the  other.  No, 
my  word's  given;  you  needn't  fear." 

"It  isn't  that,"  Edgerton  explained  his  frown. 
"I'm  disturbed  that  I  can't  tell  you  definitely  what 
my  plans  are.  I've  promised  Vance  to  go  South  with 
him,  I've  assured  Gail  that  I  shall  never  betray  her 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  251 

secret.  Those  things  I  shall  do,  but  what  else — God 
knows !" 

"It  all  depends  on  the  woman." 

"Yes." 

"Then  if  God  knows  He'd  be  ashamed  to  tell 
just  what  you  will  do,"  pronounced  his  friend 
harshly,  and  left  on  the  words,  walking  so  rapidly 
that  he  was  gone  before  Edgerton  could  answer. 


XXXIV 

T  IKE  a  big  brown  hen  with  a  dozen  little  chicks 
•*-'  squatting  near,  was  Everglade  Villa,  the 
Lormes'  southern  home.  It  comprised  a  big  bunga- 
low and  a  group  of  smaller  buildings  devoted  to 
servants'  quarters  and  commissariat,  much  in  the 
manner  of  an  old  plantation.  Gail,  on  the  floor  of 
the  piazza,  knees  held  loosely  between  clasped 
hands,  upraised  a  laughing  face  to  Mrs.  Lorme's. 

"Why  don't  you  relieve  your  inner  consciousness, 
Kate  dear?  Why  not  ask  me  outright  the  questions 
that  are  furrowing  your  brow?"  she  teased. 

Mrs.  Lorme's  shrewd  eyes  fastened  on  the  radiant 
face,  the  almost  too  radiant  face,  she  could  not  help 
but  feel.  The  unrestrained  happiness  that  Gail  had 
evinced  during  the  past  two  weeks  aroused  her  sus- 
picions. The  whole  thing  was  puzzling.  She  had 
left  her  in  New  York  five  weeks  before  in  open 
revolt  against  her  husband,  alleging  that  it  was  im- 
possible that  he  and  she  could  make  the  trip  South 
together — and  tragically  unhappy.  And  lo !  they 
had  come  virtually  hand  in  hand,  Gail  as  riotously 
gay  as  she  had  before  been  miserable.  And  she 

252 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  253 

was  unashamedly  in  love  with  George,  who — and 
this  was  the  heart  of  the  puzzle — was  now  as  nig- 
gardly about  showing  his  affection  as  Gail  was  lav- 
ish. Yet  Gail's  light-heartedness  seemed  too  real 
for  acting.  And  Vance  was  blissful — a  sure  barom- 
eter that  he  believed  all  was  well  between  his  idol- 
ized parents;  and  Vance  was  not  easy  to  deceive 
as  to  that. 

"What  is  it,  Kate?  Come,  let's  have  it  now  and 
be  through." 

Mrs.  Lorme  hesitated,  then  asked  bluntly: 

"Why  is  George  so  cold  now  that  you  are — 
uh " 

"Idiotically  in  love  with  him?  The  why  I  can't 
tell.  But  it's  all  right.  He  loves  me,  and  I — 
oh,  Kate!  I'm  mad  with  my  love  for  him;  quite, 
quite  mad." 

Again  Mrs.  Lorme  looked  at  her  closely,  trying 
to  penetrate  through  the  mystery  that  she  could  not 
but  feel  hovered  near,  an  indefinable,  intangible, 
but  very  real  menace.  Why  should  a  wife  talk  about 
her  love  for  her  husband  as  madness,  and  in  the 
tone  Gail  used? 

"There's  something  wrong,"  she  pronounced. 
"Why  does  George  look  so  anxious  if  all  is  as  it 
should  be?  There's  a  look  in  his  eyes  at  times 
when  they  rest  on  you  as  though  his  heart  is  almost 
too  heavy  for  him  to  carry." 

Gail  laughed  gayly,  but  the  keen  eyes  watching 
saw  a  slight  shiver  shake  her. 


254  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

"Kate,  it's  all  right.  It  is;  it  is!  He  loves  me 
and  I  love  him,  and  nothing  else  counts.  Nothing! 
Nothing!" 

"That's  crazy  talk,"  said  Mrs.  Lorme,  not  be- 
cause she  particularly  believed  what  she  said,  but 
to  give  vent  to  her  perturbed  feelings. 

"Well,  I'm  crazy,  crazy  with  joy.  He  loves  me 
and  he's  with  me.  I  can  see  him  each  day  and  look 
into  his  eyes  and  read  his  love  there.  Words? 
Words  make  no  difference  to  him  and  me !  He  is 
mine,  all  mine !  A  miracle  gave  him  to  me,  and 
no  one,  no  one  ever,  shall  take  him  away." 

The  elder  woman's  face  softened,  grew  very 
tender.  She  remembered  the  years  of  neglect  and 
loneliness  through  which  the  young  wife  had  passed, 
torturing  years  when  her  husband  had  been  any 
one's  but  hers.  George  had  been  a  tremendous  vil- 
lain notwithstanding  his  present  manliness  and 
charm.  She  leaned  over  and  kissed  the  girl's  cheek. 

"I  keep  forgetting  what  a  wastrel  George  was 
and  how  strange  it  must  seem  to  you  to  have  him 
decent.  You  deserve  your  happiness  in  your  own 
way." 

"My  happiness  in  my  own  way,"  repeated  Gail. 
"It  is  my  due  for  all  that  I  have  suffered,  surely, 
surely  it  is,  Kate !  But  he  has  never  been  anything 
but  good  and  honorable.  I  can't  let  you  say  it  even 
— even " 

Mrs.  Lorme  laughed  indulgently. 

"Two  George  Orcutts  in  one  make  it  rather  puz- 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  255 

zling,  Gail.  But  I'm  glad  you  can  feel  that  way 
about  it  He Ah!" 

The  man  under  discussion  had  suddenly  appeared. 
Mrs.  Lorme  saw  their  glances  meet — a  youth's  and 
a  maid's,  or  so  it  seemed,  so  shy,  so  adoring,  so  vir- 
ginally  glad !  Swiftly  she  moved  away,  embarrassed 
strangely  by  what  she  had  witnessed.  Yet  she  did 
not  go  so  quickly  but  that  she  saw  the  man's  love 
go  under  cover,  a  calmly  courteous  gaze  replace  the 
eyes'  impassioned  tenderness.  She  smiled  mater- 
nally. They  were  but  two  children,  making  a  mys- 
tery of  their  passion  to  add  to  its  glamour.  She 
laughed  to  think  that  she  had  taken  them  so 
seriously. 

Edgerton  had  neither  been  aware  of  Mrs. 
Lorme's  presence,  nor  its  kindly  removal;  all  his 
attention  was  fixed  on  the  girlish  face  smiling  so 
delightedly  upon  him. 

"Will  you  walk  down  to  the  beach?"  he  asked. 
"You  had  better  take  a  wrap;  the  air  is  cold  near 
the  water." 

"I  like  the  cold  air." 

"I  shall  get  you  a  wrap.  Your  dress  is  thin; 
we  may  be  some  time — I  want  to  talk  to  you  at 
length." 

She  flashed  a  mirthful  glance  at  him  as  he  re- 
turned with  a  big  automobile  coat. 

"Why  not  a  buffalo  robe  and  foot-warmers?"  she 
cried,  springing  lightly  to  her  feet  and  giving  a 
quick  shake  to  her  lingerie  frock. 


256  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

"Perhaps  you'll  wish  I  had,"  returned  he,  with 
forced  humor. 

Her  answering  laugh  was  wholly  carefree.  Had 
she  not  seen  the  revelation  of  his  eyes?  What  was 
there  to  fear  while  he  could  not  come  upon  her  un- 
expectedly without  his  eyes  betraying  him  to  the 
world?  There  was  a  song  in  her  heart.  She  walked 
lightly  beside  him,  chattering  in  blithe  indifference 
to  his  constrained  demeanor.  There  was  a  rosy 
glow  over  her  of  happiness  and  sheer  joy  in  living. 

From  the  villa  a  slight  natural  rise  of  earth  and 
stubby  vegetation  ran  horizontally  to  the  edge  of 
the  sea,  ending  in  a  declivity  with  cosy  back-rests 
along  the  shore.  To  the  household  "the  beach" 
meant  this  sheltered  spot.  Thither  Edgerton  bent 
his  steps,  almost  in  silence  till  they  were  seated. 
Even  then  he  gazed  a  little  while  at  the  foam- 
crested  breakers.  Abruptly  he  turned. 

"I  am  leaving  to-morrow,  Gail.    And  for  good." 

There  was  a  short  pause  while  she  gazed  at  him 
in  a  dazed  questioning. 

"You  are  leaving  Everglades — the  South?" 

"You,"  he  said  simply. 

She  caught  her  breath. 

"Why?" 

"You  know  why." 

"But  I  don't.    You  and  I " 

"O,  we  love  each  other,"  said  he  roughly. 

"Where  are — you — going?" 

"To  Underwood's  for  a  few  weeks ;  then  abroad, 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  257 

I  think.  The  Doctor  has  been  planning  a  vacation 
for  some  time,  and  he'll  go  with  me,  there  or  some- 
where." 

"You  think  you'll — forget  me?" 

"No;  I  don't  think  anything  so  idiotic.  I  shall 
think  of  you  and  love  you  till  time  without  end.  But 
with  a  thousand  miles  between  us  I  shan't  be  con- 
stantly beset  to  take  you  in  my  arms.  Here  the 
temptation  is  beyond  my  resistance,  now " 

"That  you  know  I  want  to  be  there,"  she  whis- 
pered qurckly.  Then:  "Have  you  thought  about  me 
— about  my  loneliness?" 

"Yes;  but  there's  no  way  round  it." 

"There — is — a — way " 

He  gripped  his  hands  till  the  muscles  stood  out. 

"That's  the  hellish  part  of  it." 

"But  Keith " 

"There  is  no  'but,'  Gail.  None!"  He  flung  out 
the  words  with  the  savagery  of  despair.  "To  serve 
you  I  can  take  George  Orcutt's  name  and  child — 
but  I  can't  take  his  wife." 

She  caught  his  arm  with  both  hands. 

"But  you  must  if  she  insists  on  coming  to  you.  .  .  . 
And  I  do  insist,"  she  sobbed.  "You  do  not  belong 
to  any  one  else.  You  are  Vance's  and  mine.  I 
have  been  preparing  myself  for  this.  ...  It  is  not 
easy.  . .  .  Even  though  it  is  you.  .  .  .  But — but — 
to  be  separated  half  the  time  from  Vance " 

"Rob  you  of  the  boy!  I?  What  are  you  talking 
about?  Vance  is  not  my  son — now." 


258  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

"But  you're  his  father.  Don't  you  see !  And  he 
would  go  to  you  of  himself.  .  .  .  He  wants  his 

father  and  mother  united He  talks  it  till  I 

feel  I  shall  scream  out  in  madness  some  time.  .  .  . 
You  are  his  father — in  all  that  means  a  father.  .  .  . 
We  would  not  wrong  any  one  in  doing  this  for  him 
....  George  wanted  me  to  have  my  liberty  that  day 
— he  spoke  of — this.  And — and  even  if  it's  wrong, 
I  am  willing  to  pay Can't  you  be?" 

She  was  openly  pleading.  She  felt  that  she  had 
put  him  in  a  position  where  he  could  not  ask  for 
her  favor.  And  in  a  position  where  she  owed  him 
herself.  She  had  reasoned  it  out  during  the  days 
by  Vance's  bedside  after  the  operation  and  in  the 
weeks  since  coming  here.  Wholly  outside  of  her 
desire  for  his  presence  was  his  claim  upon  her  own. 
She  had  forced  George  Orcutt's  name  and  respon- 
sibilities upon  him.  He  was  not  free  to  marry.  He 
would  never  be.  The  only  wife  he  could  hope  for 
was  herself.  And  she  must  not  only  give  him  a 
satisfying  home  and  family  life,  but  give  it  readily. 

Doctor  Underwood  was  the  only  one  who  knew 
their  secret.  And  he  would  keep  it  always,  for 
Keith's  sake.  George  Orcutt  was  now  a  hopeless 
paretic.  He  could  not  betray  himself  nor  her. 
Keith  had  no  near  relatives;  nor  had  she.  There 
was  only  Vance — and  this  would  mean  his  happi- 
ness now  and  for  all  his  life.  She  should  have  no 
fear  of  his  future  with  Keith  Edgerton  to  bring 
him  up. 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  259 

Edgerton  looked  full  at  her. 

"You  say  you  are  willing  to  pay.  But  just  how 
much  are  you  willing  to  pay?  Are  you  willing  that 
our  children  should  be " 

His  arm  shook  under  the  spasmodic  trembling  of 
her  hands. 

"Our— children!" 

"Yes;  our  children,  yours  and  mine. . . .  Have 
you  thought  of  our  children,  Gail?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered  in  a  dead  voice.  "I  thought 
of  them, 'but " 

"Joyfully,"  he  completed.  "I  know.  And  you 
have  seen  nothing  but  holiness  in  our  union.  You 
have  started  on  the  premise  that  Vance  must  be 
saved  from  knowing  his  father's  full  guilt.  I  wish 
that  Vance  might  be  kept  in  ignorance  of  his  father's 
life  always.  And  I  want  you,  till  /  am  willing  to  em- 
brace damnation  to  get  you.  If  it  were  just  myself, 
there  would  be  no  question  of  what  I  should  pay. 
Honor  and  right  are  meaningless,  except  relatively. 
But  our  children  would  unlawfully  share  Vance's 
material  inheritance.  And  while  thinking  themselves 
of  honest  parentage,  would  be  legal  bastards." 

"Keith!" 

"The  truth  isn't  always  pretty,"  returned  he. 

"We're  so  young And  to  be  separated  till — 

death — takes — him And  it  never  will!"  she 

sobbed  wildly. 

"No;  there's  little  hope  there." 

"Where  is  there — hope,  Keith?"  she  sobbed. 


26o  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

"Nowhere  for  us,  dear,"  said  he  gently. 

She  shook  the  tears  from  her  lashes  and  looked 
at  him  in  a  wondering  way.  Deliberately  he  was 
going  to  leave  her — and  with  no  hope  of  their 
reunion !  She  might  accept  this.  But  to  invite  their 
separation!  To  consummate  it  upon  his  own  ini- 
tiative! How  could  he  if 

She  voiced  her  thought : 

"Do  you — love  me?" 

Edgerton  turned  bloodshot  eyes  upon  her. 

"Love  you !    Love  you !    Am  I  not  leaving  you !" 

His  voice  was  harsh,  the  harshness  of  a  man  in 
dire  pain.  He  caught  her  by  the  shoulders. 

"You  are  going  to  try  to  beat  down  my  re- 
sistance. And  you  will  do  this  in  all  purity.  You 
think  you  have  a  reason  that  can  deify  sin.  You 
haven't  used  the  word  sin.  You've  called  it  'com- 
pensation,' 'reparation,'  'justice,'  'our  right.'  I 
don't  question  your  goodness  and  moral  rectitude. 
No !  But  your  logic's  wrong.  It's  not  by  chance 
that  we  say  'up  to  heaven'  and  'down  to  hell.'  It's 
ascent  or  descent.  We  don't  stand  still.  We  go!1 

His  hands  left  her  shoulders  and  came  to  her 
cheeks.  He  held  them  and  gazed  earnestly  at  the 
tearful  face. 

"I  want  you  so  much  that  I'm  almost  willing  to 
love  you  in  the  way  that's  open  to  us.  If  you 
weren't  deceived  as  to  where  we  should  be  going  I 
fear  I  might." 

"How  am  I  deceived?" 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  261 

"You  think  we  should  be  ascendiivg.  You  want 
to  keep  me  so  as  to  give  Vance  a  worthy  father. 
But  a  man  who  lives  under  another  man's  name — 
with  another  man's  wife — passing  off  both  to  the 
world  as  his  own! — his  illegitimate  children  parad- 
ing under  the  name  of  the  rnan  he  feloniously  suc- 
ceeded   Is  this  the  sort  of  man  you  want  to 

bring  up  your  son?" 

"Don't!     Don't!     You — you — are — not " 

"Not  as  vile  as  that No!  Not  in  cold 

blood.  Not  while  I  can  think  and  reason.  . .  .  But 
with  you  near  me  every  day — and  some  day  my 
arms  holding  you  despite  myself !  My  God!  Don't 
you  see!" 

His  voice  grew  desperate. 

"Gail,  give  me  my  freedom!  Let  me  have  my 
own  name  and  go  away  where  I  shan't  be  on  this 
dangerous  footing  with  you.  For  your  own  sake ! 
For  the  boy's! — before  we  all  go  under  together." 

She  gazed  at  him  in  a  stupor  of  pain.  And  she 
saw  but  one  thing — the  utter  bareness  of  the  future 
without  him.  To  Gail,  at  this  moment,  it  was  not 
a  choice  between  this  good  and  that  good:  it  was  a 
choice  between  life  and  annihilation.  It  was  no  use 
to  talk  about  what  might  be  some  day  and  to  pre- 
sage disaster  for  to-morrow — when  the  alternative 
was  death  to-day !  Nothing  could  be  as  havocing  as 
to  lose  him.  Morality  and  immorality  held  no  mean- 
ing. Till  his  coming  she  had  not  realized  the  pov- 
erty of  her  life.  She  had  not  known  that  she  was 


262  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

almost  blind  to  the  richness  of  the  universe.  She 
had  been  starving  in  a  land  of  exquisite  plenty.  And 
just  now  life  had  begun  to  open  to  her  its  ravish- 
ments. 

And  the  door  was  to  close !  It  was  not  only  the 
woman  who  wanted  a  man's  arms  to  shield  her;  it 
was  a  stunted  spirit  demanding  growth.  To  the 
drowning  there  is  no  question  of  whether  or  not  the 
rescuer  will  be  sucked  under:  there  is  only  a  grim 
holding  on. 

To  give  Keith  Edgerton  his  name  did  not  mean  to 
her  now  the  reopening  of  the  Orcutt-Emmet  murder 
case;  nor  scandal;  nor  shame;  nor  branding  Vance 
with  his  father's  guilt.  It  meant  that  Keith  Edger- 
ton would  go  out  of  her  life.  It  meant  emptiness. 
It  meant  desolation  forever. 

"I  can't  do  it,"  she  uttered  in  a  tone  of  deadly 
calm.  "I  never  can.  You  are  mine  and  Vance's. 
You  belong  to  us.  ...  I  shall  not  give  you  up — 
ever.  ...  If  you  should  go " 

"I  am  going,"  said  he.  "I  shall  remain  George 
Orcutt  till  you  release  me.  I  shall  never  ask  you 
again  for  my  name.  When  you  are  ready " 

" 1  never  shall  be " 

" You  can  give  it  to  me.  I  shall  visit  with 

Vance  to-night  and  go  early  in  the  morning. . .  . 
This  is  our  good-by." 

He  looked  at  her  steadily,  his  face  wet  with  un- 
ashamed tears. 

"No  I"     He  caught  her  outstretched  hands  and 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  263 

put  them  from  him.  "I  haven't  the  strength  to  kiss 
you."  He  rose.  "Wait  here;  I'll  send  Vance  to 
you." 

She  watched  him  walk  up  the  path.  Her  eyes 
held  a  frozen  look.  He  had  had  the  strength  not  to 
kiss  her0 


XXXV 

T   WANT  Papa." 

Vance  said  it  stubbornly.  He  lay  in  bed,  a 
tray  of  untasted  food  beside  him.  It  was  five  days 
after  Edgerton  left. 

"I  think  I  heard  Papa  tell  you  to  be  good  to 
Mama,"  said  his  mother.  "To  make  yourself  ill 
and  cause  me  so  much  worry — this  isn't  obeying 
Papa." 

"I  don't  care.  I  didn't  know  he  was  going  when 
I  promised  that.  You  knew.  And  you  let  him  go." 

The  child  was  bitter.  He  felt  deceived,  outraged. 
He  had  had  a  wonderful  evening  with  his  father, 
and  had  been  allowed  to  sit  up  an  hour  past  his 
usual  bedtime.  He  had  gone  to  bed  feeling  very 
big  and  manly.  And  the  next  morning  he  found 
that  his  father  had  gone  away  without  letting  him 
know.  It  was  another  mystery,  and  he  was  tired  of 
mysteries.  He  cried  himself  into  a  fever.  The  fol- 
lowing morning  he  did  not  get  up.  His  mother 
found  him  with  hot  tear-stained  face  hid  against  his 
pillow.  He  refused  to  be  coaxed  or  shamed  into 

submission. 

264 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  265 

WI  want  Papa,"  was  his  cry. 

A  doctor  had  been  called.  Vance  shut  his  lips 
against  the  medicine  prescribed,  and  spat  out  the 
dose  forced  between  his  teeth.  Nor  would  he  eat. 
He  did  not  know  the  strategic  value  of  a  hunger 
strike;  he  refused  food  because  they  wanted  him  to 
eat,  and  he  was  not  going  to  do  anything  that  any 
one  wanted  him  to.  It  was  complete  rebellion. 

In  the  doctor's  opinion  it  was  a  case  of  a  "spoilt 
child."  He  smiled  skeptically  at  the  mother's  ex- 
planation that  Vance  had  never  been  so  disobedient 
before.  But  Mrs.  Lorme,  whom  he  knew  well,  con- 
vinced him  that  the  boy's  behavior  was  really  un- 
usual. The  doctor  began  to  look  serious.  The 
child's  heart  was  weak,  and  he  had  not  wholly  recov- 
ered the  strength  spent  in  his  recent  illness.  He  told 
the  mother  to  send  for  the  father. 

"I  cannot,"  she  answered. 

Vance  had  heard.  He  looked  at  her  now  with 
defiant  eyes. 

"I  want  Papa."  His  voice  rose  shrilly.  "You 
won't  tell  me  why  you  do  things.  You  just  do  'em. 
Why  won't  you  send  for  Papa?" 

"Because  Papa  wouldn't  want  to  come,"  she  ut- 
tered, her  face  very  white.  "I  asked  him  to  stay 
with  us.  I  want  him,  too.  But I'm  not  cry- 
ing, dear.  See?  And  you  must  be  brave.  You're 
my  man  now." 

"I'm  not  a  man,"  he  sobbed  angrily.    "I'm  a  little 


266  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

boy.  I  don't  want  to  be  brave.  Why  did  Papa  go 
without  saying  good-by  to  me?" 

"He  wanted  to  carry  away  a  picture  of  a  happy, 
smiling  boy,"  his  mother  answered  truthfully.  "The 
story  he  told  you  about  Captain  Intrepid — that  was 
you,  dear.  He  explained  that  'intrepid'  means " 

Vance  put  his  fingers  to  his  ears  and  screamed. 
Intrepid  meant  all  the  things  that  Vance  had  no  in- 
tention of  being  just  then.  He  was  a  young  sav- 
age. He  wanted  his  father  and  was  using  his  only 
known  method  of  attack  to  get  him. 

The  doctor  came  again,  and  felt  the  child's  pulse, 
and  frowned,  and  took  the  mother  outside  the  room 
for  consultation. 

"Doctor  Unwin  will  telegraph  for  Papa,"  she 
announced. 

"Oh!  oh!  oh!" 

"Perhaps  Papa  and  Doctor  Underwood  would 
take  you  with  them A  sea  trip  would  be  bene- 
ficial  "  Her  voice  broke  over  a  sob.  "How — 

how  would  this  do?" 

The  boy's  head  pressed  a  little  closer  to  the  soft 
shoulder.  He  drew  in  a  long  breath,  luxuriating  in 
the  beautiful  fragrance  that  pervaded  his  mama. 

"But  then  I  should  want  you." 

"My  baby!  My  ba "  She  stopped.  She 

had  promised  not  to  call  him  baby  again.  "Forgive 
Mama." 

His  lashes  lowered. 

"I  don't  mind — now.     I — I  like  it  when  you  and 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  267 

I  are  alone.  Please,  Mama,"  he  whispered,  "I 
want  Papa  and  you.  Oughtn't — oughtn't  a  father 
to  stay  with  his  boy?" 

She  walked  to  the  piazza  that  opened  off  Vance's 
chamber.  She  thought  of  George  Orcutt,  now 
senseless,  now  paying  the  penalty  of  his  sins,  but 
never  from  the  first  day  a  true  father.  He  had 
celebrated  the  child's  advent  with  a  crowd  of  rois- 
tering companions  and  had  been  carried  past  her 
door  at  daybreak  in  a  drunken  sleep.  Vance  was 
worse  than  fatherless,  then  and  now,  as  far  as 
George  Orcutt  was  concerned. 

And  the  other  man 

She  beat  her  knuckles  together  and  uttered  a  poig- 
nant "Oh!"  She  had  been  doing  this  for  five  days. 
It  hung  over  her — a  black,  harrowing  memory,  cor- 
roding, consuming. 

She  had  offered  him  herself! — and  the  offering 
had  been  refused! 

Herself! — the  which  she  had  valued  beyond 
everything  but  the  child  she  had  borne,  and  which 
she  had  guarded  against  all  the  years'  besiegements. 
A  neglected  wife,  young  and  incomparably  lovely, 
with  an  infinitude  of  charm — there  had  always  been 
some  one  ready  to  console  her.  Every  other  man 
she  met  seemed  to  be  of  a  mind — that  she  was  nec- 
essary to  his  happiness  and  worth  every  cost  she 
might  bring  him.  In  her  first  bitterness  against  her 
husband  there  had  been  moments  of  recklessness 
when  she  was  almost  ready  to  fill  his  place  with 


268  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

another.  Her  baby  had  saved  her.  She  had  fled 
to  him  and  nestled  him  to  her,  knowing  that  she 
must  keep  faith  with  him. 

Her  aloofness  had  given  her  prestige.  Even 
George  Orcutt's  perfidy  could  not  bemean  a  wife 
who  bore  it  so  nobly.  Society  had  placed  her  in 
a  case  and  looked  upon  her  as  a  rare  curio.  A 
peculiar  adulation  was  given  her.  Fine — good — 
she  had  been  called  these  so  often  that  she  had  ac- 
cepted them  without  questioning. 

Only — was  she  good?  Was  she  fine?  she  asked 
herself  now.  And  she  could  not  find  an  answer 
that  satisfied  her.  Surely  it  was  her  duty  to  save 
Vance  from  shame  and  disgrace.  It  was  a  man- 
date that  her  maternity  placed  upon  her.  Yes;  but 
1 — he  did  not  seem  to  think  so. 

"Mama,"  called  Vance,  fearfully,  "please  come 
in  and  tell  me  why  you  say  'oh !'  all  the  time.  Do 
you  hurt  anywhere?  Or  are  you — afraid  of  some- 
thing?" 

She  came  and  sat  beside  him,  as  childishly  in  need 
of  sympathy  as  himself. 

"I  am  trying  to  find  out  something  about  my- 
self," she  explained,  patiently.  "I  have  been  in  the 
shadows  so  long  that  the  high  light  of  noon  blinds 
me." 

"The  high  light  of  noon  ?  When  it  strikes  twelve, 
Mama?" 

She  did  not  answer.  She  was  looking  past  him 
with  discovery  in  her  eyes.  The  high  light  of  noon 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  269 

— it  was  this  light  that  beat  from  Keith  Edgerton — 
penetrative,  insistent,  clear,  purging!  And — piti- 
less. But  pitiless  because  its  rays  were  direct:  gla- 
mour fell  away  and  only  the  bald  outlines  of  a  thing 
lay  revealed. 

And  when  she  herself  should  be  stripped  before 

her  own  eyes What  should  she  find?  It  was 

a  question  only  as  yet.  She  was  uncertain;  fum- 
blingly  trying  to  penetrate  beyond  her  actions  to  her 
motives.  She  looked  at  her  boy — and  a  queer  shiv- 
ering came  upon  her.  Was  she  serving  him  the 
best  that  she  could? 

She  put  her  hands  out  gropingly. 

"What's  the  matter,  Mama?  Can't  you  see? 
You  act  so  funny.  Please,  darling  Mama,  don't  look 
like  that!" 

She  lay  down  beside  him,  a  wet  cheek  to  his. 

"Mama  is  trying  to  see  into  your  future,"  she 
sobbed,  and  it  was  the  uncertain  cry  of  a  girl — a 
very  lonely  girl.  "She  wants  to  give  you  the  best 
future  she  can ....  And  she  doesn't  know  what 

that — should — be Supposing  that  you  and 

Mama  should  not  have  Papa  again — ever " 

"But  we  will — we  will!"  Vance's  voice  was  fran- 
tic. "We've  got  to  have  Papa !  You  can  make  him 
stay  with  us — this  spirit  of  Papa." 

"I'm  not  sure  I  can  make  him,  dear,"  she  whis- 
pered. "And  I'm  not — sure  that — I  should — even 
for  you.  But — oh!  my  baby!  It  is  so  black  with- 
out him!" 


XXXVI 

pAPA!" 

The  boy  sat  upright  in  bed,  a  quivering 
bundle  of  ecstasy,  his  body  hiding  the  figure  seated 
on  the  other  side.  But  Keith  Edgerton's  eyes  went 
past  the  boy.  For  one  brief  instant  his  and  Gail's 
glances  met.  And  each  knew  that  this  was  what 
the  other  had  been  living  for.  Everything  was 
blotted  out  but  the  splendor  of  their  love. 

"Papa!" 

Edgerton  lifted  the  boy  from  his  bed  and  kissed 
him,  then  seated  himself  with  the  excited  child  on 
his  knee. 

"So  this  is  Captain  Intrepid!  Instead  of  taking 
care  of  Mama  you've  brought  your  Daddy  a  thou- 
sand miles  on  a  jolting  train,  doubled  up  like  a 
jack-knife  in  an  upper  berth,  and  with  a  peck  of  cin- 
ders in  each  ear.  And  all  because  of  a  spell  of  tem- 
per! What  do  you  think  I  ought  to  do  to  you?" 

Vance's  face  fell.  There  was  a  serious  cadence 
in  his  father's  tone.  And  the  humorous  twist  to 
his  lips  was  missing.  The  boy  was  silent  for  a  little 
while.  Then : 

270 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  271 

"You  went  away  and  didn't  bid  me  good-by,"  he 
reproached. 

"So  that's  the  count.  All  right,  Vance.  I  stand 
convicted.  I  tried  to  shirk  my  responsibility,  and 
here  is  the  penalty!  It's  Socratic  justice.  Well, 
little  mate,  here  I  am.  You  are  going  to  have  your 
Daddy  for  two  hours.  So  think  quick  the  very  best 
use  you  can  make  of  him." 

"But  you  must  stay."  Vance  clutched  him  about 
the  neck.  "Mama  and  I  want  you  here.  You're 
ours,  you 'know,  Papa." 

"I  wonder."  Edgerton's  voice  held  a  singular 
note.  He  put  a  hand  under  the  child's  chin.  "Part- 
ner, if  you're  mine,  you're  going  to  obey  me.  I  have 
something  to  tell  you.  But  first,  I  want  to  know 
if  you  are  going  to  do  as  I  say  hereafter.  This 
means  that  when  I  tell  you  not  to  worry  Mama? 
you're  not  to  worry  her.  It  means  when  I  go  away 
I  am  not  to  be  called  back  because  I  have  failed  to 
say  something  that  you  think  I  should.  It  means 
a  good  boy  instead  of  a  bad  one.  Think  carefully, 
a  promise  is  a  thing  to  be  kept.  Now,  are  you 
going  to  obey  me?" 

Vance's  babyish  face  took  on  a  manly  look. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"That  rings  true.  Now,  your  Daddy's  through 
scolding.  Do  you  remember  the  rambling  old  red 
house  that  was  at  the  turn  of  the  road  right  below 
Doctor  Underwood's?  Sure.  Well,  that's  my 
house  now.  Or  will  be  when  I  go  back.  I  was  to 


272  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

have  signed  the  deed  yesterday.  And  that  house 
is  going  to  hold — boys !  Yes,  partner,  a  whole 
round  dozen  of  boys f  And  a  new  batch  of  boys 
every  month.  Do  you  remember  the  time  you  went 
with  me  on  the  East  Side  and  saw " 

"The  boys  with  the  nice  ragged  pants,"  shrilled 
Vance. 

"Those  are  the  ones." 

"They  called  my  white  trousers  'ice  cream 
pants,'  "  the  boy  added. 

"And  you've  been  skeptical  of  the  propriety  of 
white  trousers  ever  since,"  laughed  the  man.  "The 
boys'll  knock  holes  in  some  other  of  your  beliefs — 
to  your  mother's  horror,  I  fear.  You  were 
searched  for  germs  for  a  week  after  that  visit,  I 
remember." 

"Boys !  Oh !  And  we're  to  be  there,  Mama  and 
I!  Oh!  Oh!  Oh!" 

"You're  to  be  there,  as  often  as  Mama  is  willing 
to  spare  you.  But  this  is  to  be  bachelors'  quarters, 
partner.  We  will  have  a  man  cook  and  helpers, 
and  a  young  man  to  assist  me,  and  the  boys  and  you 
and  I.  This  is  to  be  a  training  school  for  character. 
Do  you  know  what  character  is?" 

"The  spirit  inside  of  us,"  returned  Vance 
promptly.  "And  we  build  it  every  day,  a  teeny  bit 
at  a  time.  You  told  me."  He  bounded  up  and 
down.  "When  will  the  boys  be  there?  Can't  Mama 
and  I  go  back  with  you  now?  I'm  well." 

"Now,  partner,  here's  the  time   for  obedience. 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  273 

You're  to  stop  here  till  May,"  was  the  answer. 
"First,  because  it's  the  doctor's  orders.  And,  again, 
the  first  batch  of  boys  '11  be  there  the  middle  of 
April.  And  I  want  to  get  their  measure " 

"For  new  pants?" 

"No;  for  the  size  of  their  present  character.  I 
guess  by  May  they'll  understand  that  when  I  say 
my  boy  is  to  be  treated  decently,  they'll  understand 
that  he  is.  That's  one  reason  I'm  exacting  obe- 
dience now — I  can't  have  my  own  boy  set  a  bad 
example." 

"I  won't.  I'll  obey.  I  will,  Papa.  How  many 
days  is  it  till  May?  How  old  are  the  boys?  Will 
I  eat  with 'em?  Will " 

Gail  half  rose.  The  child  was  trembling  with 
excitement.  Edgerton  pinched  his  lips  together. 

"No  more,"  he  commanded.  "Now,  I'm  going 
to  wrap  you  in  a  big  fur  coat  and  take  you  on  the 
shore  for  a  ride.  The  sea  is  what  you  and  I  need." 
He  looked  across  at  Gail.  "And  you.  Get  on  your 
wraps.  We  have  an  hour." 

It  was  a  soft  gray  day.  The  sky  and  the  sea 
were  in  a  contented  mood.  The  clouds  moved  lei- 
surely, and  the  sea  touched  the  shore  in  a  long,  quiet 
roll.  The  air  was  refreshingly  clear.  The  auto- 
mobile sped  noiselessly  along  the  hard,  smooth 
beach,  now  in  low  tide. 

Vance,  between  the  two  on  the  wide  back  seat, 
held  his  mother's  hand  and  leaned  against  the  man's 


274  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

shoulder.  His  world  was  all  rosy  again.  His  eyes 
rose  to  his  father's — a  remorseful  look. 

"You  can  tie  your  ears  up,  can't  you,  Papa?" 

"What?"  Edgerton  started  from  a  reverie. 

"To  keep  out  the  cinders,"  explained  Vance,  in 
shamed  voice. 

"Oh!"  There  was  a  quick  laugh  from  Edgerton, 
an  excited  boyish  laugh.  "I  don't  believe  I  shall 
mind  the  cinders,  Vance.  I'll  carry  a  memory  of 
— the  sea  with  me.  It's  been  ten  years  since  I  left 
it."  His  eyes  came  to  Gail's.  "It  is  ten  years?" 

UA  hundred,"  she  whispered. 

Vance  sighed  happily.  He  did  not  object  to  a 
nice  mystery,  a  mystery  where  his  mama  and  papa 
looked  at  each  other  this  way. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  about  the  house  and 
the  boys  before  you  left  me,  Papa?"  Which  was 
another  way  of  stating  that  Vance  was  sorry  for 
bringing  his  father  on  the  long,  hard  journey. 

"Why?"  Edgerton's  voice  was  whimsical.  "I 
didn't  know  about  them  myself,  partner.  I'm  pretty 
fond  of  you,  you  see.  And  when  I  was  on  the  train 
speeding  north  I  found  that  there  was  an  awful  pull 
on  my  heart-strings — with  the  other  end  reaching 
back  here.  And  the  farther  away  I  got  the  harder 
it  pulled.  Even  a  makeshift  father  couldn't  go 
away  and  leave  the  boy  and  the  woman  he  loves 
to  flounder  along  helplessly.  I  had  to  anchor  you 
first.  I've  always  been  interested  in  boys  and  I've 
had  a  lot  of  ideas  buzzing  in  my  head  about  helping 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  275 

some  of  the  handicapped  to  a  better  way  of  living. 
If  I  can  get  a  boy  to  liking  outdoor  life,  the  out- 
doors of  the  country,  I  think  I  can  find  a  permanent 
home  for  him;  and  for  as  many  as  want  it  and  are 
willing  to  work.  And  a  month  of  clean  outdoor 
living  won't  hurt  those  who  don't.  There'll  be  boys 
from  eight  years  old  to  about  fourteen,  and  among 
them  all  we'll  try  to  find  a  playmate  for  you — one 
to  live  with  you  all  the  time.  I'll  adopt  him  and 
leave  him  with  you,  my  other  boy,  while  I'm  away. 
And  we'll  find  an  active  young  man  who  can  teach 
you  boys  and  coach  you  in  games  and  make  good 
citizens  out  of  you.  If  Mama  agrees." 

Vance  turned  his  face  to  hers,  his  eyes  like  stars. 
A  boy  to  live  with  him!  A  boy! 

"Mama!"  he  piped. 

"I'll  do  anything  I  can  that  Papa  wants  me  to," 
she  returned,  smiling  through  a  film  of  blissful 
tears.  Everything  he  did  only  made  it  more  im- 
possible for  her  to  renounce  him.  And  he  did  not 
realize  this.  Her  eyes  rested  on  him  in  the  indul- 
gent way  they  did  on  Vance.  There  had  been  a 

pull  at  his  heart-strings  that  drew  him  to  her 

Would  there  not  always  be?  Her  gaze  became  in- 
quiring. Did  he  not  know? 

There  was  a  crowd  at  the  little  station.  It  looked 
curiously  at  George  Orcutt,  then  at  Mrs.  Orcutt 
and  the  child.  The  New  York  press  had  duly 
chronicled  Orcutt's  presence  North  without  his  wife 
and  son.  It  had  faithfully  recorded  his  hurried 


276  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

journey  South.  And  to-morrow  it  would  give  a 
detailed  account  of  his  return  to  the  metropolis. 
The  reporters,  like  the  servants,  were  waiting  for 
the  "old  Orcutt  to  break  out."  Gail  and  Edgerton, 
unconscious  of  the  other's  thoughts,  viewed  the  cu- 
rious with  a  strange  humor  of  their  own.  If  the 
world  but  knew  the  inside  of  the  Orcutt  case — what 
a  content  then  for  leaded  headlines  and  gossip ! 

And  this  it  would  know — some  day,  was  Edger- 
ton's  thought.  The  thought  came  to  Gail  as  a 
question:  Would  it  ever  know?  Her  arms  went 
about  Vance,  a  fierce,  protective  embrace.  She  held 
him  thus  as  the  train  pulled  out. 


XXXVII 


SCENT — descent — ascent — descent- 


For  six  months  Gail  had  heard  this.  In 
Florida  the  waves  boomed  it  at  her.  As  she  came 
North  the  wheels  of  the  train  ground  it  out. 

Her  eyes  took  on  a  hunted  look. 

Edgerton  met  her  at  the  train. 

"What  have  you  been  doing  to  yourself?"  he 
questioned.  "You've  been  sick  and  haven't  let  me 
know!" 

With  her  hands  in  his  and  the  warm  protected 
feeling  that  his  presence  always  brought,  she  had 
believed  that  there  was  nothing  wrong  with  her  or 
the  world.  She  laughed  blithely. 

"I'm  only  tired." 

And  for  the  moment  she  believed  this.  She  was 
so  glad  to  see  him  again  that  she  could  only  look 
at  him  and  listen  to  him  and  adore  him.  They 
gazed  at  each  other  like  blissful  children. 

Renounce  him!  Deliberately  separate  their 
lives!  The  thought  was  ludicrous  with  him  beside 
her.  She  had  been  harrowing  herself  over  bubbles. 
Why  had  he  bought  a  house  and  planned  a  perma- 

277 


278  THE    WOMAN'S    LAW 

nent  home  here  if  not  to  be  near  her?  They  could 
live  separate  lives  without  closing  the  door  forever 
upon  each  other. 

She  had  grown  slightly  hysterical  with  relief. 

He  had  accompanied  her  to  the  Riverside  Drive 
house  and  had  sat  for  several  hours  in  the  sun- 
parlor  and  told  her  and  Vance  about  the  "boys." 
Vance  had  been  on  his  knee  and  she  beside  him, 
with  much  of  the  while  a  hand  in  his.  His  delight 
in  having  them  again  was  too  great  for  him  to  try 
to  hide  it. 

She  had  slept  peacefully  that  night.  And  for  a 
week  she  had  been  excitedly  happy.  She  and  Vance 
had  gone  to  see  the  "boys,"  and  she  had  left  Vance 
there.  She  had  laughed  gayly  over  the  child's  in- 
dignation at  her  solicitude  about  his  dressing  and 
undressing. 

"Please  don't  say  such  things,  Mama;  the  boys 
might  hear,"  he  pleaded.  "They  can  dress  them- 
selves." He  threw  back  his  head  proudly  and  de- 
fiantly. "And  /'//  dress  myself." 

Edgerton  grinned. 

"If  the  boys  get  ahead  of  our  son  they'll  have  to 
get  up  early,  all  right." 

The  "our  son"  came  out  so  naturally  that  the  man 
did  not  notice  it.  He  was  smiling  at  the  boy,  and 
very  paternally. 

Gail's  heart  leapt  with  ecstasy.  He  not  only 
accepted  the  role  of  George  Orcutt,  but  was  happy 
in  it.  Her  life  could  go  on  now  in  peace,  with 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  279 

Vance's  future  safe,  and  always  a  beautiful  friend- 
ship between  Keith  and  her.  Yet 

Ascent — descent.  .  .  .ascent — descent 

The  little  ivory  clock  on  Gail's  dressing-table  be- 
gan to  tick  it.  In  June,  the  sea  at  Mamaroneck 
boomed  it  forth. 

June  passed,  and  July. 

The  training  school  for  character  had  become  of 
public  interest.  The  fact  that  George  Orcutt  was 
conducting  it  made  it  of  deep  moment  to  the  New 
York  press.  Had  the  school  been  unworthy  it  would 
have  still  been  featured  sensationally.  But  Morris 
Underwood's  connection  with  it — the  alienist  was 
as  boyishly  enthusiastic  over  it  as  Edgerton — had 
brought  it  to  the  attention  of  educators  and  essay- 
ists. Articles  on  Boy  Psychology  and  Character — 
The  Orcutt  Experiment — Conservation  of  Boys — 
and  others  of  the  same  sort  appeared  in  the  serious 
magazines.  Yet — it  was  not  Underwood,  the 
psychologist,  but  Edgerton,  the  man,  who  was  re- 
sponsible for  the  success  attained. 

And  Underwood,  who  had  grown  very  social  and 
friendly  with  Gail,  confided  this  to  her  with  a  little 
chortle  of  amusement. 

"The  personal  equation — that's  the  Davidian 
sling  and  pebble.  The  magazines  tell  about  the  sys- 
tem that  the  Orcutt  Boy  Farm  is  run  on.  System?" 
He  chuckled.  "It's  all  summed  up  in  two  words — 
Keith  Edgerton.  He  gives  the  boys  something  that's 
outside  my  power,  or  that  of  any  psychologist,  to 


28o  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

name.  I  might  tell  those  boys  for  a  year  how  to 
live  rightly,  and  plan  out  just  how,  by  their  reflex 
actions,  they  should  go  about  the  job,  and  not  incite 
one  of  them  to  live  rightly.  Keith  doesn't  tell  them 
anything,  so  to  speak,  and  inside  of  a  week  their 
grimy  little  souls  begin  to  reach  toward  the  light." 

"But  why?"  Gail  questioned.  "You  surely  have 
an  idea  why." 

Underwood  looked  at  her  brooding  eyes.  It  was 
the  haunting  question  they  seemed  to  be  asking  these 
days  that  had  changed  his  gruffness  toward  her  to 
a  friendly  confidence. 

"Why?"  He  mused  a  moment.  "Perhaps  the 
truest  reason  is  that  Keith  has  faith  in  them.  A 
somewhat  doubting  hope  is  the  nearest  I  could  come 
to  it.  And  he's  not  promulgating  a  theory;  he's 
living  a  fact,  a  fact  they  can  all  see — himself.  Man- 
liness— every  boy  wants  that;  it's  his  unconscious 
ideal.  In  Edgerton  a  boy  sees  himself  as  he  should 
like  to  be;  his  virility  and  force  and  humor  fas- 
cinate the  boyish  mind.  I  suppose  the  last  thing 
they  would  call  Keith  is  good.  I'm  sure  it's  the 
last  thing  Keith  would  call  himself.  And  I  shouldn't 
like  to  face  his  grin  if  I  called  him  that.  And  not 
being  good  is  helpful.  No  one  follows  a  preacher. 
That's  where  /  fall  down.  I  talk"  He  chuckled 
again.  "I'd  tell  the  brats  what  to  do  and  not  ex- 
pect them  to  do  it.  Keith  doesn't  tell  them  to  re- 
form, but  he  expects  it — and  somehow  he  gets  it 
across  the  line  and  into  their  muscles." 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  281 

"Muscles?" 

"Exactly.  The  mind  has  a  nasty  habit  of  tucking 
things  away.  The  preacher's  Sunday  sermon  goes 
into  a  little  compartment  of  his  parishioner's  mind 
to  stay.  But  when  the  muscles  begin  to  twitch! — 
then  there's  something  doing." 

Gail's  hand  came  up  to  her  throat,  herself  uncon- 
scious of  the  act.  Her  fingers  touched  her  articula- 
tory  muscles  in  a  singularly  questioning  way.  The 
alienist's  eyes,  seemingly  directed  upon  Edgerton 
and  a  clutter  of  boys  in  the  distance,  were  upon  her. 
He  saw  her  lips  quiver,  very  piteously,  and  her  eyes 
grow  somber. 

This  was  the  end  of  July,  three  months  after  her 
return  from  the  South.  Hardly  a  day  of  these 
three  months  but  had  found  her  at  the  "boy  farm." 
She  came  to  bring  Vance  or  to  take  him  away,  or 
to  see  how  he  was.  Bryan,  the  chauffeur,  no  longer 
felt  it  necessary  to  ask  where  she  wanted  to  go. 
And  in  the  three  months  Edgerton  had  said  nothing 
about  wanting  his  name  and  his  freedom — nor  about 
not  wanting  it. 

Theirs  seemed  a  tranquil  relationship.  She  had 
not  talked  with  him  alone  since  the  day  she  came 
from  the  South.  He  had  not  once  been  to  Mamar- 
oneck.  They  shook  hands  placidly  when  they  met, 
and  parted.  But  it  was  the  tranquillity  of  fire  cov- 
ered up,  not  snuffed  out.  Their  eyes  said  all  that 
their  lips  did  not.  And  in  the  light  pressure  of  their 
hands  was  the  thrill  of  a  thousand  kisses.  They 


282  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

were  so  deeply  in  love  that  merely  to  be  together 
was  rapture. 

Morris  Underwood  looked  on  curiously.  He 
talked  with  Gail  a  great  deal  these  days.  Soon  he 
admitted  her  fascinations.  She  was  so  natural  and 
girlish  and  had  such  a  nimble  wit!  And  there  was 
an  adorable  grace  in  her  excessive  motherliness. 
The  physician  liked  to  affect  a  headache  to  watch 
her  eyes  widen  with  sympathy.  When  with  her  he 
accepted  Edgerton's  peculiar  status  with  matter-of- 
fact  acceptance.  He  had  been  rewarded  by  seeing 
her  grow  fearless  in  his  society.  But  it  was  not 
for  this  he  did  it.  "A  man  and  his  woman" — this 
was  a  battle  in  which  he  had  no  part. 

Edgerton  had  once  taken  the  ground  that,  given 
a  man  strong  enough  and  a  woman  who  loved 
enough,  he  could  take  her  anywhere  he  would — to 
the  blackest  depths  or  to  heights  touching  the  sky. 
Underwood  had  cheerfully  admitted  the  blackest 
depths;  only  reversing  the  order — that  it  was  the 
woman  who  took  the  man  there.  But  now  he  was 
wondering  if  Edgerton  may  not  have  been  right — 
was  not  right,  to-day. 

He  watched  the  two.  And  the  silent  battle  was 
the  most  thrilling  conflict  he  had  ever  witnessed.  He 
forgot  that  it  was  a  man  and  a  woman  who  loved 
each  other  and  who  wanted  each  other  more  than 
-anything  else  in  the  world.  He  looked  at  it  broadly, 
viewed  it  from  the  eternal  standpoint.  And  he  knew 
that  in  the  mysterious  depths  of  things  it  was  not 


THE    WOMAN'S   LAW  283 

the  union  of  the  two  that  counted,  nor  their  separa- 
tion^— but  only  that  their  love  should  lift  them  higher 
than  they  could  have  gone  without  it.  It  came  to 
him  that  this  was  what  love  was  for — that  its  ulti- 
mate purpose  was  to  furnish  wings  for  humanity  to 
rise  on.  A  year  before  he  would  have  scoffed  and 
sneered  at  such  an  opinion.  But  to-day  he  was  a 
man  who  held  a  deep  affection  for  another — Keith 
Edgerton  was  to  him  a  son  and  the  idol  of  his  heart. 
And  this  love  had  crowded  out  much  of  the  bitter- 
ness and 'cynicism  that  had  accrued  there  through 
disappointment  and  loneliness.  His  fatherliness 
extended  to  the  woman  that  Keith  loved.  He  wanted 
mightily  that  Keith  should  have  her;  and,  despairing 
that,  he  wished  that  she  should  rise  to  meet  her 
lover's  faith  in  her. 

Her  fingers  now  moving  over  her  white  throat 
and  the  piteous  query  of  her  eyes !  He  watched  her 
intently.  And  his  scrutiny  took  in  the  exquisite  love- 
liness of  her — the  soft  curves  and  the  delicate  anat- 
omy and  the  childish  sweetness  of  the  red  mouth. 
There  was  something  curiously  appealing  in  the 
slim  young  figure  with  its  indefinable  fragrance  and 
pretty  apparel.  He  wanted  to  lift  her  up  and  carry 
her  to  Edgerton's  strong  arms  and  leave  her  there. 

He  growled  behind  his  teeth. 

To  tell  the  public  all  the  pitiful  tragedy  of  her 
blighted  wifehood!  To  drag  the  gibbering  idiot 
known  as  George  Ormond  forth  with  his  flabby 
hands  red  with  murder ! George  Orcutt,  in 


284  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

the  person  of  Edgerton,  had  become  a  respected  man 
among  those  who  knew  him;  and  this  respect  was 
gradually  percolating  through  to  the  public.  Here 
was  a  reformed  man,  with  a  serious  purpose  in  life 
— and  all  the  more  praiseworthy  because  he  was 
still  possessed  of  the  millions  that  had  helped  to  his 
ruin.  In  Edgerton  she  had  an  honorable  father  for 
her  son.  .  .  .  And  for  herself  a  lover !  For  a  woman 
could  always  implicate  a  man  irremediably — if  she 
chose. 

He  looked  at  her  piercingly.  She  held  the  key — 
and  upon  its  turning  depended  her  future  and  the 
man's.  And — what  turn  would  she  give  it? 

He  growled  again.  It  was  sentimental,  irra- 
tional, yet — he  found  himself  wishing  for  her  hap- 
piness. He  was  very  tender  to  her  that  day  and 
for  several  days  thereafter. 


XXXVIII 

"DUT  suddenly  Morris  Underwood's  manner 
•*~^  changed.  He  grew  cold  toward  Mrs.  Orcutt, 
treated  her.with  a  sneering  demeanor. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked  Edgerton  wistfully. 
"Have  I  done  anything  to  anger  him?" 

"You've  done  nothing,"  he  answered.  "It's  a 
grouch  against  things  in  general." 

But  Gail  saw  Edgerton  send  reprimanding  glances 
at  his  friend.  This  defense  by  her  lover  seemed 
only  to  add  to  Underwood's  belligerence.  Gail 
tried  to  ignore  his  unfriendly  attitude.  But  there 
was  a  biting  scorn  in  his  eyes  that  caused  her  own 
to  fall;  and  the  jeering  tone  of  his  voice  was  like 
a  slap  on  her  face. 

He  was  applying  the  lash.  He  wanted  to  drive 
her  into  releasing  Edgerton.  It  was  thus  she  di- 
vined it. 

For  four  weeks  she  slept  but  a  few  hours  each 
night — a  troubled  dreaming  in  the  early  morning; 
and  this  through  sheer  exhaustion  after  hours  of 
wakefulness  and  anguished  arguments  with  herself. 
She  had  been  pale  before.  She  was  ashen  now. 

285 


286  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

Then  one  morning  an  employee  of  the  sanatorium 
brought  her  a  note : 

"Mv  DEAR  MRS.  ORCUTT: 

"Please  be  at  the  sanatorium  this  afternoon  at 
three   o'clock,   and  promptly.      This   is   important. 
"Yours  truly, 

"MORRIS  UNDERWOOD." 

Gail  read  it  with  a  new  contraction  of  the  heart. 

This  imperative  summons Did  it  have  to  do 

with  her  husband?  At  Edgerton's  solicitation 
Doctor  Underwood  had  taken  charge  of  the  corre- 
spondence and  financial  affairs  of  "George  Ormond." 
This  was  at  the  time  Gail  went  South. 

Was  he  now  going  to  give  them  back  into  her 
hands;  place  this  burden  again  upon  her?  Pre- 
viously, over  the  signature  "Mary  Ormond"  she 
had  sent  drafts  and  letters  to  Doctor  Manton,  the 
Paris  physician  under  whose  care  her  husband  was. 
But  it  was  a  graver  risk  for  her  to  do  this  than  for 
Doctor  Underwood.  She  might  be  too  guarded  or 
not  enough  so.  She  had  always  been  fearful  that 
Doctor  Manton  or  some  one  of  his  associates  might 
visit  New  York,  and,  out  of  courtesy,  seek  to  find 
"Mrs.  Ormond"  and  tell  her  personally  about  her 
husband.  She  had  had  the  answers  to  her  letters 
sent  to  the  general  delivery  window  at  the  Post 
Office.  To  get  them  had  necessitated  considerable 
contriving.  She  had  to  take  Vance  with  her  as  a 
valid  excuse  for  going  herself.  The  child's  whims 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  287 

were  numerous:  to  say  that  "Vance  wants  to  buy 
some  stamps  for  himself,"  was  a  sufficiently  good 
explanation.  But  she  had  first  to  incite  Vance  to 
want  to  buy  stamps  for  himself;  then  she  had  to 
leave  him  beyond  hearing  distance  while  she  called 
for  her  mail.  It  was  a  nerve-racking  hour,  leaving 
her  faint  from  the  strain. 

And  it  was  a  relief  not  to  know  about  the  details 
of  her  husband's  case.  Doctor  Underwood's  crisp 
"Same  as  usual"  was  all  that  was  now  told  her.  He 
had  said  nothing  for  a  month.  Had  he  been  waiting 
to  perpetrate  some  cruelty?  Three  o'clock  found 
her  at  the  sanatorium,  sick  with  dread. 

She  shrank  before  the  saturnine  glance  with  which 
he  greeted  her.  She  could  not  keep  the  hurt  tears 
from  her  eyes,  nor  her  lips  from  trembling.  He  led 
her  into  his  study  and  behind  a  screen. 

"I  want  you  to  sit  here  quietly  for  the  next  ten 
minutes  or  so.  This  mirror  gives  a  view  of  the 
room.  I  want  you  to  hear  and  see  without  being 
seen." 

"Wait!     Does — Keith  know  about  this?" 

"No,"  he  growled. 

"Then  it's  something — unkind,  and  I  won't " 

"You'll  sit  right  here,  just  as  I  tell  you,"  he  com- 
manded. 

There  was  a  jingling  of  the  doorbell.  The  physi- 
cian walked  away  and  left  her.  She  sat  down  facing 
the  mirror,  looking  into  it  with  eyes  almost  too 


288  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW. 

terrified  to  see,  eyes  waiting  to  behold — George 
Orcutt. 

The  alienist  returned  to  the  room.  With  him  was 
a  girl.  The  long  mirror  revealed  her  entire  figure. 
She  was  tall  and  girlishly  plump,  with  athletic  shoul- 
ders and  hips.  She  wore  a  blue  suit  and  hat,  a  red 
wing  and  necktie  giving  a  saucy  touch.  Her  hair 
was  brown  and  crinkly,  her  eyes  brown  with  a  laugh 
in  them,  and  there  was  a  deep  dimple  in  her  right 
cheek.  She  seated  herself  in  the  chair  the  host  indi- 
cated. 

"Yes,  I'm  Janet  Manners,"  said  she.  "And  I've 
come  to  see  Keith  Edgerton."  She  looked  at  him 
daringly.  "And  I'm  going  to  stay  here  till  I  do  see 
him,  or  you  tell  me  where  I  can  find  him.  It's  no 
use  to  say  Keith  won't  see  folks.  He'll  see  me" 

"Why?" 

The  dimple  worked  mischievously.  She  pouted — 
the  pout  of  a  girl  used  to  having  her  way  with  mas- 
culinity. 

"Blind — blind — blind!"  she  uttered  commiser- 
atingly,  and  watched  to  see  the  effect  of  her  audacity. 

Morris  Underwood  laughed,  a  big,  hearty  out- 
burst. 

"Old  and  in  my  dotage,"  he  added.  "But  never- 
theless I  believe  I — have — a  glimmering — of — 
why." 

"Now  that  I  have  drawn  your  attention  to  it," 
said  Miss  Manners,  dimpling  some  more,  "you  may 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  289 

even  be  convinced  that  it  is  a  deprivation  for  Keith 
not  to  see  me." 

He  inclined  his  head,  in  merry  acquiescence. 

"I  am,  Miss  Manners.  I  am !  And  if  I  could,  I 
should  take  you  to  Keith  this  minute.  But " 

"Doctor  Underwood,  I  will  not  be  put  off  with 
excuses,"  she  interrupted,  raising  a  finger  in  warn- 
ing. And  though  she  dimpled,  she  was  very  serious. 
"Dad's  easy.  'We  must  abide  by  Doctor  Under- 
wood's decision,'  he  says.  And  he  may.  But  I 
shan't. "  I'm  more  to  Keith  than  he  is  or  anybody 
else.  Edgerton  was  to  have  been  my  name 

hadn't "  She  pressed  her  lips  till  they  whitened 

under  the  compression.  Her  hands  reached  toward 
him,  imploringly.  "If  Keith  is  sick,  I  should  take 
care  of  him.  We  live  on  the  next  ranch;  and  my 
two  brothers  and  I  played  with  the  Edgertons  from 
babyhood.  They're  all — gone,  but  Keith.  And  I 
want  Keith.  I  don't  care  how  wrong  his  head  is, 
or  how  terribly  afflicted  he  may  be.  He  would  never 
be  a  burden  to  me — nor  to  Dad." 

"You  love  him?" 

"I  adore  him!     We  all  do!" 

Doctor  Underwood  was  silent  for  a  while. 

"How  long  do  you  expect  to  be  in  New  York?" 
he  questioned. 

"Four  days.  Then  I  sail  for  England  with  some 
neighbors  of  ours.  I  want  to  see  Keith  before  I  sail. 
I  want  him  to  go  home  with  me  when  I  come  back, 
or  go  abroad  with  us  now  if  he's  well  enough.  Or  I 


29o  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

shall  stay  here.  I  don't  care  which  it  is.  All  I  want 
is  to  have  Keith  again." 

Morris  Underwood  rose. 

"You  will  hear  from  me  in  two  days.  I  make 
no  promises.  I  think  I  may  arrange  for  you  to 
see  Keith  before  you  sail.  But  if  not,  you  as  well 
as  your  father  must  submit  to  my  decision.  You 
will  defeat  your  own  ends  otherwise.  I'm  acting 
as  Mr.  Edgerton's  physician.  Everything  I  do  is 
for  his  best  good.  My  first  duty  is  to  him.  Be 
patient  now.  It  will  all  come  out  right." 

She  stood  up  and  looked  at  him,  searchingly,  then 
held  out  her  hand. 

"I'm  not  a  patient  person.  I  was  sick  in  bed  for 
the  first  four  months,  or  I  should  have  come  on 
then  and  searched  for  Keith  myself.  It's  only  within 
the  past  month  that  I've  been  able  to  travel."  Her 
other  hand  covered  his.  "Won't  you  tell  me  some- 
thing more  than  this?"  she  pleaded. 

"In  two  days,"  was  the  answer. 

There  was  finality  in  his  tone,  but  his  voice  was 
very  friendly.  He  went  outside  and  put  her  into 
the  waiting  taxicab,  presented  her  with  a  handful  of 
roses  gathered  from  a  trellised  rambler  beside  the 
steps. 

The  smile  left  his  face  as  he  returned  to  the 
study. 

Gail  stood  in  the  center  of  the  room,  head  high 
poised. 

"It's  not  true.     Keith  has  never  given  her  any 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  291 

cause  to  make  her  think  he  would  marry  her !  And 

you  know  this You  know  this!  And  yet  you 

bring  me  here  to  try  to  kill  my  faith  in  his  honesty. 
You  have  planned  this  scene  thinking  to  make  me 
remorseful.  Remorseful?  Why  should  I  be  re- 
morseful over  hurting  a  man  who  would  break  faith 
with  a  woman?  It's  because  he's  not  dead  to  shame 
and  dishonor  that  has  awakened  me  to " 

"The  holiness  of  truth,"  completed  Morris  Un- 
derwood softly. 

"Stop!"  she  commanded  passionately.  "It's 
profanation  for  you  to  talk  about  holiness.  You 
claim  to  love  Keith — and  then  you  try  to  blacken 
my  mind  against  him  when  you  know  that " 

"He  cares  more  for  your  little  finger  than  all  the 
rest  of  the  world  together,"  again  interrupted  the 
man.  "Just  a  minute.  I  did  not  plan  this  scene. 
I've  been  in  desultory  correspondence  with  Doctor 
Manners  ever  since  learning  who  Edgerton  is.  I 
had  a  letter  from  him  last  week  stating  that  his 
daughter  was  coming  to  New  York  and  would  want 
to  see  me.  I  had  no  way  of  knowing  what  she 
would  say.  I've  not  mentioned  the  subject  to  Edger- 
ton and  know  nothing  of  his  side  of  it.  My  only 
premeditated  move  was  to  bring  you  here  to " 

"Try  to  take  away  all  the  sweetness  out  of  my 
life ! — to  leave  me  not  only  alone,  but  without  faith 
and  trust  in  humanity!"  Her  clenched  hands 
pressed  against  her  bosom  to  quell  the  tumult  that 
shook  her.  "But  you  shall  not!  You  shall  not!  I 


292  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

can't  go  on  unless  I  believe  in  him!  My  life  has 
been  given  over  to  expediency — I  thought  I  was 
good,  and  all  the  while.  .  .  .  Then — I  began  to  see 
and — I've — been  trying  to — get  the — courage." 
Her  hands  came  to  her  twitching  lips,  trying  vainly 
to  beat  back  the  wild  sobs.  "To  me  abstract  truth 

has  no  meaning It  had  to  be  embodied  for 

me  to  see  it Keith  means  truth !  and  light !  and 

— my  salvation  I  And  you  know  this — and  yet 
you " 

"I?  What  have  I  to  do  with  it?  You  haven't 
lost  your  faith  in  your  lover."  It  was  a  statement, 
but  there  was  a  flicker  of  questioning  in  the  under- 
tone. 

She  stepped  toward  him,  and  her  burning  eyes 
held  his. 

"No!  And  he  is  my  lover!  He  is  not  hers  and 
never  was!  Never!" 

"And  never  shall  be  if  you  can  help  it — so?"  said 
Morris  Underwood.  "And  you  can,  Mrs.  Orcutt. 
What  Miss  Manners  and  I  want  has  no  bearing  on 
the  case.  Whether  Keith  continues  in  slavery  to  a 
married  woman  or  goes  free  to  live  the  independent 
life  a  man  should,  is  wholly  up  to  you.  All  this 
light  and  truth  and  wonderfulness  is  in  the  hollow 
of  your  hand.  No  one  can  lose  it  for  you  but  your- 
self." 

She  continued  to  look  at  him,  her  eyes  searching 
his. 

"This  is  what  you  call  applying  the  'surgeon's 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  293 

knife',"  said  she,  in  low  voice,  her  excitement  gone 
from  her.     "I  see." 

Her  hands  came  together  on  her  breast  again, 
she  stood  for  a  fraction  of  a  second  longer  gazing 
at  him,  then  with  a  wild  flinging  out  of  her  arms, 
she  turned  and  left  the  room. 


XXXIX 

"VT^OU  telephoned  for  me  to  come  to  Mamaroneck 

at  once  to  see  you Which  means  that  you 

have  something  unusual  to  tell  me.  And  you  don't 
tell  it!" 

In  Edgerton's  manner  was  restrained  excitement. 
To  see  her  was  always  an  event  that  sent  his  blood 
quickening.  But  he  had  been  looking  rather  tired 
of  late;  and  even  her  presence  had  brought  little  of 
the  exuberance  that  seemed  to  belong  to  him.  To-day 
his  excessive  buoyancy  was  in  marked  contrast  to 
his  recent  depression.  It  was  as  though  his  spirit 
was  rioting  to  shout  forth  a  hosanna,  and  was  held 
in  check  by  a  mighty  effort. 

Gail  was  blind  to  his  inward  commotion. 

"Let's  go  to  the  summer  house,"  she  said  in 
answer.  "Here  the  servants  are  constantly  going 
and  coming." 

"Ah !  a  secret !  One  of  those  hideous  secrets  that 
Vance  detests." 

He  delivered  a  message  from  Vance  and  told  her 
some  trifling  news  of  the  "boys"  as  they  walked 
across  the  lawn.  She  made  no  response.  She  let 

294 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  295 

him  fix  a  cushion  at  her  back  and  place  a  hassock 
under  her  feet.  Still  she  remained  silent.  He  sat 
down  in  a  chair  facing  her  and  folded  his  arms. 

"Your  brother — who  was  killed — was  going  to 
marry  Miss  Janet  Manners." 

The  man  started. 

"So  you  figured  it  out  for  yourself !  Underwood 
told  me  about  it  this  morning.  He  didn't  mean  it 
the  way  you  thought,  dear." 

She  looked  at  him  directly  now,  noting  his  flush 
of  excitement.  He  hadn't  called  her  "dear"  since 
that  day  in  Florida.  Nor  looked  at  her  in  this  pos- 
sessive way  since  he  had  known  she  was  not  his  wife. 

"What  is  it?"  she  cried  out. 

"Let's  hear  what  you  have  to  say  first,"  he  re- 
turned. 

She  twisted  her  hands  together,  then  one  rose 
and  travelled  over  the  muscles  of  her  throat.  There 
was  no  contraction  now. 

"Doctor  Underwood  meant  to  drive  me  into 
giving  you  up,  and  he  didn't  care  how  he  did  it! 
He  knew  it  was  your  brother  who  was  engaged  to 
Miss  Manners?" 

"Yes;  he  told  me  just  now  that  Doctor  Manners 
had  written  him  not  to  mention  Harold's  name  to 
Janet;  so  he  inferred  from  that  that  she  wouldn't 
speak  of  it  herself.  Everything  turned  out  as  he  had 
deduced — except  you !  He  says  he'll  never  tackle  a 
'love  case'  again.  I  hope  not,  the  old  blunderer!" 

"Perhaps  not  a  blunderer  altogether,"  said  she 


296  THE    WOMAN'S   LAW 

faintly.  "For  he  has  gained  you  your  freedom  now, 
and  I  think  it  would  have  been  months  yet  before 
I  could  have  risen  to  it  but  for  the  way  he  talked  and 

— and  looked  at  me — as  though  I  were But 

I've  been  trying  so  hard And  I  should  have, 

even  if And  you  know  it,  don't  you!" 

"Yes;  and  so  does  he.  But  he  had  a  reason  for 
wanting  you  to  do  it  now." 

"He  wants  you  to  go  abroad  with — Miss  Man- 
ners   He  thinks  you  will And  I  want 

you  to If  not  her — then  some  one " 

"You  don't  want  anything  of  the  kind,"  said  he, 
smiling.  "You  have  an  idea  that  you  ought  to  want 
it,  that's  all.  Do  you  think  I  could  ever  marry  any 
one  else — knowing  that  your  heart  still  holds  me ! 
Aside  from  constancy  for  love's  sake,  do  you  think 
I  could  hurt  you  that  way?" 

Yet He  was  hurting  her  now!  His  buoy- 
ancy, the  exultant  ring  in  his  voice It  could 

only  mean  joy  in  the  thought  of  his  freedom.  And 
this,  knowing  that  he  was  not  to  see  her  after  they 
parted!.  .  .  . 

But  she  was  suffering  so  much  in  this  hour  that  a 
little  more  suffering  rather  than  less  hardly  counted 
....  She  had  nerved  herself  to  go  through  with 
it.  ...  And  she  should — bravely. 

"I  want  you  to  get  Doctor  Underwood  to  tell 
the — reporters.  He  says  that  they  always  report 
him  accurately  if  he  demands  it.  I  want  that  people 
should  not — misunderstand  about — you  and — me — 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  297 

I  shall  take  Vance  and  go  away  till  the  sensation  of 
the  news  is  over.  Then " 

"What?" 

"I  haven't  planned  anything  definite ....  Every- 
thing's so  black  that  I  can't  see  anything  clearly.  .  .  . 
Yet  I  know " 

"That  you  will!"  His  voice  rang  out  triumph- 
antly. "You  brave  girl !  And  not  'brigand'  bravery 
now,  as  Underwood  called  your  carrying  me  off  and 
foisting  me  on  the  law  as  George  Orcutt.  To  have 

had  the "  courage  for  that ! And  the  grit  to 

bring  me  into  your  home! And" — his  lips 

curved  humorously — "the  strength  to  fight  me  after 
you  got  me  there!"  His  hands  caught  hers.  "Be- 
loved, do  you  know  what  a  wonderful  woman  you 
are  going  to  be!" 

She  withdrew  her  hands  and  shrank  back  to  her 
chair.  Morris  Underwood's  avowed  cruelty  had  not 
hurt  her  as  did  this  praise.  Already,  she  had  a 
feeling  of  separation  from  him,  as  though  she,  as 
a  woman,  had  been  put  outside  his  life.  He  was  in- 
terested in  her  now  as  a  phenomenon ! 

She  felt  deathly  sick.  She  wanted  to  end  it  now, 
quickly,  and  crawl  off  somewhere  alone.  She  raised 
her  eyes — there  was  one  thing  more  to  do. 

"Will  you  try  to  make  Vance  understand?  He 
will  ask  for  you  a  thousand  times  a  day.  That  will 
be  the  crucifying  agony — to  hear  him  plead  and  to 
know  that  I  can  do  nothing ! .  .  .  .  And  now — good- 
by.  .  .  .  I  can't  bear — anything — more.  ..." 


298  THE   WOMAN'S   LAW 

"Good-by?"  He  laughed  boyishly.  "Dear,  there 
isn't  going  to  be  any  good-by,  ever!  That's  why 
I'm  sitting  here  grinning  so  heartlessly.  Underwood 
seemed  to  know  what  you  wanted,  and  he  made  me 
promise  to  let  you  go  through  with  it.  He  said 
it  would  make  you  happier.  And  to  make  my  blessed 
girl  happy  is  the  most  important  thing  in  life  for 
me  now."  He  regained  possession  of  her  hands 
and  his  eyes  held  hers.  She  was  staring  at  him  in 
a  strange  way.  "Yes!"  he  laughed  blissfully. 
"You're  mine!  Do  you  understand?  Mine!  You 
and  I  and  the  boy  are  going  away  together.  I've 
engaged  passage  on  the  St.  Louis  for  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Keith  Edgerton !  We're  going  to  sail  to-day !  And 
I  don't  think  it'll  matter  to  us  what  news  the  papers 
serve  to  the  public  to-morrow.  Will  it?" 

He  sprang  up  and  drew  her  to  her  feet. 

"Underwood,  the  old  bat!  kept  you  from  me  till 
you  had  offered  me  my  freedom.  He  thought  I 
wanted  that  you  should  do  this.  I  did — yes!  But 
I  knew  that  you  would  do  it  yourself  sometime. 
And  what  I  wanted  was  you!  I  can't  forgive  him 
for  this  month  that  I  haven't  had  you.  I  damned 
him  to  the  antipodes  and  back  this  morning.  But — " 
his  lips  came  to  hers — "it  doesn't  matter  now,  be- 
loved." 

She  pushed  his  lips  away.  Her  voice  was  ter- 
rified. 

"You  don't  mean  it!     Say  you  don't  mean  it! 


THE   WOMAN'S   LAW  299 

You  are  doing  this  to  make  sure  that  I'm — strong 
now.    Yes!    Yes!" 

"Gail,  don't  you  understand  that " 

Her  hand  shut  off  the  words  on  his  lips. 

"I  understand  that  you  love  me  well  enough  to 
leave  me,  enough  to  want  me  to  keep  faith  with 
myself."  She  clutched  his  arm  wildly.  "I've  got 
to — to  reach  toward  the — stars  now.  And  I  can't 
without  my  faith  in  you.  You  don't  mean  what 
you  say!  No!  No!" 

"I  mean  that  George  Orcutt  is  dead,"  said  he 
gently.  "He  died  a  month  ago.  Doctor  Under- 
wood kept  this  knowledge  from  you  and  me,  wanting 
that  you  'shouldn't  be  cheated  out  of  your  victory.'  ' 
His  arms  closed  about  her.  "And,  dear,  I  believe 
he  was  right" 


THE    END 


